


The Purest Soul

by Kalydon



Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: F/M, Manipulation, Murder, Past Torture, The first and only OFC insert I will ever do, Torture, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-05-07 14:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 58,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5459453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalydon/pseuds/Kalydon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sorin Markov- an ancient, vampiric Planeswalker; a being who created the diety of his own plane. The Purest Soul- an artifact that can restore the lost power of the Planeswalkers. And Kaelynn Grey- a quiet, reserved, human cleric. Sorin returned to Innistrad searching for only one thing. But perhaps the object of his desire is not what he believes it to be.</p><p>Set before Avacyn is sealed in the Hellvault, and before the Shards of Alara reunite.</p><p>This has been on ff.net for a while, but I'm finally moving my stuff over here as promised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Worst Day of the Year

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own Magic: the Gathering or any of its characters, plots, or settings. I do own my OCs and my plot bunnies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my very first fanfiction. I probably won't ever do another with an OC pairing, but I feel that I should see this one through to the end. I hope you enjoy it.

There were no less than ten and no more than fifteen by Kaelynn's count. It would be difficult to take them on herself, to be sure, but that was just what she deserved for her sheer stupidity in coming to the forest so carelessly that day anyway. Had there been a reason for it? Absolutely. A good enough reason to warrant her not taking any precautions save for the always present blessed blade strapped to her leg? No such excuse even existed.

The ever present voice of reason that had taken to sounding like her brother immediately began scolding her for not heeding it earlier. _If you die today, it will be entirely your own fault._

Kaelynn scowled, ignoring the annoying little voice as she quickened her pace. There was still a possibility that she could reach home before they attacked. Just as the thought crossed her mind, a pair of the vampires split off from the rest of the coven that had been flanking her, moving in front of her path. Well, forget that then; this fight was entirely unavoidable.

As though reading her mind, one of the feral monsters broke rank and charged right at her at inhuman speeds.

Moving before it could reach her, she ripped the blade from where it was strapped against the outside of her right calf and pulled it up in time to plunge it into the eye of the approaching beast, ignoring the sick feeling in her stomach as blood splattered over her clothes and face. It had been self defense, and this was a monster. Guilt should be the last thing that she was feeling.

Uncertain if the one she'd just killed was the leader or just a pawn who had let hunger override his better sense, Kaelynn broke into a jog, feeling the rest of her attackers despite having little hope of actually outrunning them. They were closing in now, and she was forced to quicken her pace even further. Unfortunately, it looked like while she had been right in her estimation, it was towards the higher end of her prediction. There were fourteen or fifteen vampires rushing alongside her, just waiting to attack. She was going to die.

_Seems rather felicitous that you should die on this exact date, don't you think?_

Ignoring her guilt, she fought with all that she had, the same as she had exactly one year ago the last time she had been in these woods being attacked by a vampire coven. One rushed her and she slashed his chest, his momentum carrying him to her feet as she continued moving. Three more fell to her blade one by one, but then another three approached her together, spelling certain doom.

"Avacyn protect my soul," Kaelynn whispered to the night sky, not honestly believing that her request would be granted, when suddenly a wave of pure white energy radiated out from the surrounding trees, obliterating the attack vampires. Those who remained fled from the onslaught of white mana leave her standing alone in the middle of the woods with a blessed blade that was dripping blood to the ground.

Stunned beyond belief at the miraculous, inexplicable event that had spared her once more when she by all right should have died, Kaelynn fell to her knees and raised her head to the Archangel in thanksgiving tempered by a feeling of resentment that she tried to keep buried.

Immediately after her prayer of thanks, she rose and hurried back to her home, fearful of getting caught in yet another attack. After all, whatever mysterious power had saved her life this time, she certainly couldn't expect that sort of luck to hold.

As soon as the door to the small hut her brother had built for the two of them closed behind her with a resounding click, Kaelynn slid down to the floor with her back against the wood, leaning her skull back against the cold, lifeless barrier between her and the rest of the world.

She was tired, which was understandable, after all, since killing five vampires like that wasn't an easy feat, even for those within the Church. Every time she tried to thank Kaleb for the training, however, he was always insufferable for a time, particularly when it saved her life. The thought brought a dim smile to her face, memories of their time together on the rare occasions he was free from his obligations within the Church giving her the strength to pull herself to her feet.

A bucket of water used for cleaning was resting on a small shelf, and she used it to clean the blade of the gore and blood from slaughtering those vampires. Now that she was no longer filled with adrenaline and in a life-threatening situation, she felt the guilt that had earlier been suppresses come to the surface of her mind.

She shouldn't feel guilty. After everything that the vampires had done to her, all they had taken, it should be easy for her to kill them, but it wasn't. That was Kaleb's forte, killing fiends, protecting Innistrad, working for the Church; she had never been cut out for it, despite the fact that he claimed she was a natural. She was a healer; it wasn't just her duty or her gift, it was truly what and who she was. She would always help those who needed it, whether they were poor and helpless or rich and powerful yet still in need of a friend.

Kaleb often used to tell her that she was a shapeshifter in some ways; she became whatever people needed her to be. Though she had originally taken it as a compliment, later conversations had revealed that he worried about her; worried that perhaps in becoming what everyone else always needed that perhaps she was loosing herself. At the time, she had brushed it away, but there were times when she wondered. Though, perhaps, it was better if she lost herself entirely. Maybe it would all be easier if she were just what was needed.

Sighing heavily, she finished rinsing her brother's favorite blessed blade and returned it to the concealed sheath on her leg, turning her mind to a more interesting conundrum. Namely, who had saved her? Though she had thanked Avacyn for the salvation, the Archangel herself certainly could not have been the one to save her. Not only was she no one in the grand scheme of things, but surely Avacyn's presence would have been noticeable and unmistakably her. No, this was someone considerably more discreet, which also happened to rule out the Church. While they might have saved her, they certainly would have come forth and declared themselves, hoping that the act would inspire her to donate or come and work for them; not that such a thing would ever happen.

Then who? And, perhaps more importantly and disturbing, why? This was the second time fate had attempted to kill her on this same exact day of the year, and also the second time she had been saved in a way that was beyond reason. She was meant to be dead and a part of her cursed both the Archangel, Avacyn forgive her, and her savior for the act. Fate would just keep trying until she was dead.

Kaelynn sighed faintly and returned to her position on the floor leaning back against the door, her only protection from the monsters of her world. It was such a thin, easily overwhelmed defense, yet, as she laid there, her eyes fell shut and she drifted off to sleep.

0-0-0-0-0

Sorin's aimless wandering through the forest of Innistrad had been rather violently disrupted, and now he couldn't cleanse the young woman from his mind.

She had been crouching over a patch of ground that seemed rather inconspicuous, but there was clearly a reason for her presence there. Her cream dress had been dragging in the dirt, but she hadn't seemed to care, even as she tossed her long, thick brunette hair back from her face. The eyes peering forth from that intense, pale face had been a true emerald color, the brightest green he had ever seen on any human, and human she most certainly had been. He had been able to hear her pulse from several yards away, marking her as the only human foolish enough to be wandering about Innistrad's forests at night.

His first impression of her had been that she was unarmed, but she had quickly proven him wrong about that, fighting off an entire coven. Not without help, of course, and therein lie the source of his troubles. There was nothing immensely special about the girl. Certainly, she was lovely- for a human, but Sorin had long been immune to the outward beauties of the body. No, the reason her haunting form wouldn't flee his mind had little to do with her actions and far more to do with his own.

Watching her fight had certainly been entrancing, but the problems had started when he had begun to dread her death. They had culminated when he had saved her. And why? That was a question to which he couldn't seem to find the answer.

It was true, she reminded him of his most perfect creation, his blessed Archangel, but it shouldn't have been his instinct to save Avacyn either. Only it was, and that was more than a little disturbing. His actions that day had been instinctual; he had acted without thinking. Such a thing was entirely unacceptable, and the entire event had very much disrupted what was meant to be some rare and peaceful time when he honestly had no where better to be that his home plane.

He took a deep breath, doing his best to purge the image of the woman from his mind. After all, he still had time to enjoy on this plane and he would until Avacyn reported back to him with news about the object he sought. The Purest Soul, an ancient artifact said to have immense restorative power and supposedly shielded somewhere on Innistrad. His reasons for wanting it were quite simple- if it were taken into the Blind Eternities and activated, it would reverse the effects of the Mending, healing the Planewalker's Spark and restoring unto them their god-like powers. Most importantly, it would put Sorin back on an even footing with that bloody overgrown lizard.

Bolas had his own plans to restore his power, Sorin was sure, which is what made his quest time sensitive. Fortunately or not, however, the fastest way to locate the artifact was to send his obedient angelic creation to seek out objects of pure righteousness across the plane. Until she returned to him with a report, he had little else to do.

And thus his mind was drawn back to the young girl. She was dressed as a cleric; was she involved with the Church? There were few other places one could get their hands on a blessed blade, but Church members didn't usually let those who were valuable enough to warrant the gift of a blessed blade wander about unprotected in places with a high vampire concentration.

It was undoubtedly a mystery, but not one that he would ever likely uncover. Though that was irritating, he could live with it if it meant that he never crossed that girl's path again. Something about her was oddly alluring, and his apparent inability to think straight where she and the memories that she invoked were concerned made her dangerous. If ever he did come across her again, the most prudent thing to do would be to kill her himself.

Satisfied with this conclusion, though still slightly disturbed by his own actions, Sorin headed to the nearby town of Silbern to find some nourishment. Rather coincidentally, a young girl no older than fourteen years was wandering about the outskirts of the farm that likely belonged to her family. Sorin stepped out of the shadows and she immediately froze, gazing upon him with pure, undiluted fear.

He smiled at her, but purposefully showed his fangs making the expression look far more hungry than soothing. Fortunately, the innate vampiric abilities in him were more than strong enough to use the girl's immense fear to keep her frozen in place where she stood; the thought of running would no doubt not even cross her feeble mind.

"Please. Don't," she whispered, her voice only audible because of his enhanced hearing. She probably didn't even realize what she was saying as tears started streaking down her cheeks.

A part of the man Sorin had once been still rebelled from this, but it was hardly enough for him to pay it notice any longer. That man had died long before Sorin had even become the monster he was now. "Hush now. It will all be over soon." He brushed her brunette hair back from her face, a few shades lighter than the cleric's, and bit into the pale skin.

The girl went limp in his arms.

Several moments later, a scream went up from the farmer's wife as she found her daughter drained dry and left posed on the edge of the yard, like she were only sleeping.

Sorin watched from the edge of the woods, uncertain what had prompted the spontaneous act of positioning the body, but certainly enjoying the results of sticking around to see their reactions. He remained until someone fled to head up to the Silbern Chapel and get an Inquisitor, at which point he bared his fangs in a low growl, but left regardless, heading back to his manor in order to find something else with which to occupy the rest of his remaining town. Maybe he would stop in Wollebank on the way there for a pet to keep him entertained.

In the distance, the sobs of the girl's mother could still be heard echoing through the trees.

0-0-0-0-0

Kaelynn was once again walking in the forest, but this time she wasn't alone. Kaleb was with her, and they were talking together, laughing about silly things and memories of childhood. These were the sorts of things that she missed dearly when he was away, and so both made a special effort to spend as much time together just doing nothing when he came back home for a time. Sure, visits to their friends in Wollebank were always nice, but their time alone, just the two of them, always meant infinitely more.

_Look around! You're not alone!_

Their conversation was lighthearted, sprinkled with laughter and the occasional playful shoving when one of them would make a comment that could, under different circumstances, have been construed as offensive. Neither the cleric nor the trained Inquisitor noticed the approaching vampire coven.

_Just run now! Don't try to fight them!_

When the attack came, it was swift, and Kaelynn felt as though she were watching it from outside her body. The vampires rushed some to her blade and many more to her brother's. She screamed at him, declared that they needed to run. He told her to go. He was supposed to be right behind her.

_No! Turn around, you idiot!_

Her footfalls echoed unnaturally against the ground, her blood pounding in her ears. Why hadn't Kaleb already overtaken her? He always faster than she, particularly when she was wearing one of dresses without slits. He should be in front of her. Kaelynn stopped dead where she stood, looking around for her brother when she caught a glimpse of him through the trees. Was he coming?

_Don't stand there waiting! Go now!_

Her eyes scanned the trees, but there was no sight of him. Her breath catching in her throat, adrenaline pounding somehow even more in her veins, she sprinted back towards the clearing where they had stood to fight. Her foot caught on a root and she went sprawling into the dirt and fallen leaves. There was something right in front of her face that didn't make sense. What was that?

_Too late. . . ._

In an instant, Kaelynn's perspective snapped back to her own body as she slowly raised her head, knowing what would be there yet somehow praying that it was something different this time. The dusted bodies of vampires lay all around her, but directly in front of her face was the arm of Kaleb, torn completely from his body and still gushing blood in to the dirt.

Bile rose in her throat and she gave a strangled scream at the sight before her as she scrambled back away from the body-less limb. A few feet away from the arm was the rest of his body, and she crawled towards it slowly, whispering denials fiercely as she moved towards the corpse.

He wasn't moving.

He wasn't breathing.

There was no heartbeat.

She laid her head down on his chest, her breath coming in heaving gasps as her shuddering sobs tore through her entire body. There were no words for the pain blossoming in her chest. The killing wound was that of a blade plunged through his chest, but whatever had made it was gone; there was only a hole there now. The blood was still gushing, oh goddess, why was the blood still running? His eyes were open and lifeless, staring at the sky, and his legs were twisted at an unnatural angle. Avacyn, why?

Finally, the scream ripped through her throat, and she lay there, hollaring to the night skies for the injustice of it all.

Suddenly, the body beneath her shifted and cold dead eyes snapped up to meet her own as a hand gripped her throat, crushing her windpipe, and she choked, staring at Kaleb's rage-twisted expression. "You did this!"

Kaelynn woke gasping for air, her hand flying to her neck despite knowing from the beginning that it had been a dream. Ever since his death a year ago, she relived it in her head, over and over, never able to change anything. Sometimes she woke when she screamed. Sometimes it took a little bit longer.

The young cleric laid her head back against the door, trying to get her breathing and tears under control. She had already done this! She had already mourned for Kaleb; why couldn't she move on? Why wouldn't he let her move on?

Sometimes she wondered if perhaps she shouldn't have buried him out there in the woods where he had died. It would be a lot easier to visit his grave if it weren't in the middle of the woods, but she feared that if it weren't for the danger of going, she might spent all her time there. The risk that she took in going to visit him as she had today limited the amount of time she could spend there, forced her to move on to other things.

Trying to shove the memories and the dream from her mind, Kaelynn decided that she would head to the small town of Wollebank to visit with some of her friends and possibly something decent to eat for a fair price. It was a lot to ask for from the frightened human population of the shepherd's town, but it was closer than the slightly smaller, Church dominated Silbern. She liked Wollebank better anyway, even though the town was actually nearer to the abandoned, yet still dreaded, Markov Manor. The people there had always been kinder to her and her brother than the cathars and paranoid farmers that surrounded the small chapel and watchtower in Silbern.

She headed off without further ado, walking at a swift, even pace, the knife's weight on her right leg a comforting presence reminding her that she wasn't defenseless. At first, walking with the weight of the blade had bothered her, but now she felt naked without it. Besides, with the near death experience earlier that day, she figured she better stop ignoring the remembered advice of her deceased brother. She could have avoided that vampire coven if she'd been more careful. Maybe a part of her hadn't desired to do so, however.

She placed those disturbingly accurate thoughts out of her mind as she entered the small town.

Wollebank was of a relatively good size, but not so large as to attract too much attention from the supernatural inhabitants of their land. The houses were rather clumped together, while the fences that held the sheep were on the outskirts; they would much prefer the werewolves steal their sheep than the vampires steal their children.

She walked into the town without fear, but, to her surprise, found it fairly deserted. She knocked on the door to one of her friend's home, and the door opened a crack, revealing the frightened face of Isaac Morsh, who opened the door slightly wider and pulled her inside to the relatively dark home. "Kaelynn," he exclaimed in surprise, "what are you doing about?"

"I came to visit some friends and possibly buy some supplies, though I'm beginning to think that now's not a good time. What's going on?"

"Markov Manor," he responded, like that explained everything.

"Do you think I could get a bit more of an explanation than that?"

"Someone was there," he hissed, lowering his voice. "First we saw lights on the upper floors, and then, earlier today, we saw someone leave."

Kaelynn resisted the urge to roll her eyes, fairly certain that the town was in an uproar over nothing. After all, no one had been in the Markov Manor for centuries as far as the people of Innistrad were concerned. "Have you been holed up inside all day?"

"Yes," the annoyed voice of Isaac Morsh's sixteen-year-old daughter responded from one of the adjoining rooms. "Everyone's all worked up over nothing."

Kaelynn didn't try to resist the smile that sprang to her face at the sight of Abigail Morsh; the girl was like a sister to her and always had been. "Hello, Abigail." Kaelynn immediately moved to embrace her, the affection instantly reciprocated by the younger girl.

"Hey, Kaelynn. Haven't seen you around in a while."

Kaelynn gave a light shrug and a small smile, "Believe it or not, I've actually been a bit busy. I promise to try and get down here more often, however."

The assurance seemed to placate the blonde and she grinned, "Will you stick around? Mom's cooking up something I don't want to think about for supper."

Kaelynn smiled at the invitation, but declined gently, "I'm afraid not, Abi. I should probably be going." Even if she didn't really believe in the legends about teh Markov Demon or the whispers about someone being back in the Manor, it was still better to be safe than sorry. She turned back to Isaac, "Tell Marion that I dropped by."

Isaac looked at her like she was insane, "You can't seriously be going out there."

Kaelynn shrugged, "I need to get home. I'll probably be back tomorrow for some supplies," she directed this at Abi, "maybe we can talk more then."

"Okay; bye, Kae."

Kaelynn smiled and then walked through the door, making sure to close it securely behind her even as the somber words of both Abigail and Isaac drifted out after her, "May Avacyn go with you."

Taking a deep breath, she left the porch of their house and stood in the main street, gazing up at Markov Manor for several moments. It looked the same as it always did, just as imposing and just as abandoned. Deciding that the villagers were almost certainly being paranoid, like most Innistrad humans were prone to be, Kaelynn shook her head slightly and turned, ready to go home.

Kaelynn Grey then found herself face-to-face with the Vampire Lord of House Markov- Sorin Markov himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and I recently came back and redid this first chapter, so if you see any inconsistencies with the later ones, please let me know. I plan on editing most of it again up to chapter six or seven, but this first one needed to be completely redone. I just wanted to get out of the way. Thanks!


	2. Let the Games Begin

Kaelynn was shocked stiff at the sight of the Vampire Lord whom she presumed to be Sorin Markov standing in front of her. He was surprisingly attractive, actually, with a mop of silvery white hair dusted with streaks of gray and vibrant, golden eyes. He was tall, too, although Kae was short, only standing at 5'3''. He towered an entire foot above her, and his black clothing accented his cold, ashen skin. He was handsome, without a doubt, but she couldn't seem to manage any emotion but fear for the man, no, creature, standing in front of her.

The Vampire Lord looked amusedat her reaction, and inclined his head slightly towards her in a way that she felt was meant to mock. "Good afternoon."

She froze, not even remotely certain how she was supposed to respond to this surreal situation. After a moment, she was able to compose herself somewhat, reminding herself that she had, strangely enough, been in far worse situations. "Good afternoon," she responded respectfully, keeping her tone neutral as she inclined her head in response.

The amusement in Markov's eyes only grew at her moderately level reaction. "I'm surprised that you would consider it safe to be out in the open, what with all the rumors flying about my home being occupied by the so-called Markov Demon."

My home. So she hadn't been jumping to conclusions. This man really was Sorin Markov, the one from the paintings in the great hall of Markov Manor. The villagers hadn't been being paranoid. Twice in one day, Kaelynn thought to herself in annoyance. She was nearly dead, twice in one day. Though, granted, Lord Markov hadn't tried to kill her yet. "Safe isn't exactly the word I would use. In fact, it's very uncommon for anyone on Innistrad to feel safe."

Markov arched an eyebrow, "Not even with the protection of the great Archangel?"

Kaelynn shrugged, finding herself disconcerted at how easy it was to talk to this avatar of unholy power, "She can't be everywhere at once, and while her wards stop many deaths, still thousands, maybe millions, die every day without her interference. She cannot protect everyone at all times, despite insinuations to the contrary."

The mysterious vampire looked up slightly into the sky, "Perhaps this is how it is meant to be."

Kaelynn shook her head, "I refuse to believe that."

He looked her in the eyes, his golden portals seeming to peer into her very soul, pinning her in place to prevent her from trying to escape even had she been so inclined. "That is the reality set before you; why deny it?"

"Because what use are any of us without hope?" Kaelynn responded with an impassioned voice. "Even the great Avacyn holds little sway should the people cease to believe in her. We continue to believe that things will change; that life will become better, and that even after thousands of years of fearing that our children will be stolen by the consumers of the innocent, the monsters in the dark, we can finally rise up against the demons. We believe that, some day, we will be able to tell our children that they are safe, and that there are no such things as monsters. We believe because we must. We deny the reality that is before us and look forward to a brighter future, because if we do not, then what is the point of living? Why not just let the demonic scourge destroy us all that they might then be forced to destroy one another? Why fight if not for hope? And if we have no hope, then they have already won the battle."

The Vampire Lord eyed her with an interesting look in his shimmering golden eyes, and Kaelynn began to grow uncomfortable. She had just given a speech on hope and the ability to overthrow the monsters to a vampire! He was probably thinking of how best to snap her neck now, or perhaps he would rip out her throat instead. She hoped that he killed her quickly and wasn't too insulted by her words. Sometimes, she heard that Vampire Lords liked to drag out the deaths of those who had insulted them. Why had she had to open her big mouth?

"Come back to my Manor with me," he offered out of the blue.

Kaelynn just stared, her mind actually shutting down for a few moments in reaction to that statement. First, he wasn't killing her, at least not yet, which stunned her to be sure, but adding to that was the fact that the Vampire Master Sorin Markov had just invited her into his home. He had just asked, or ordered, her to walk with him into the lion's den. Of course she wasn't going to with him! If he killed her for offending him, than so be it! Better he kill her here quickly than drag out her death in the castle!

She was fully prepared to risk his ire and refuse him, so she looked him in the eye, and instantly regretted it. She couldn't say no. Looking into those cold, perfect, golden orbs, she found her ability to refuse his offer stripped from her along with her free will. He was enthralling her, at least for now, and she wished she had the ability to bemoan her own stupidity even as she felt her mouth open and words that were not her own spill out of it. "With pleasure."

Sorin offered her his arm (why was she calling him Sorin now?), and led her up towards the looming mansion. She felt her heartbeat begin to quicken in fear as they drew nearer to the front gates. The tower cast a massive, towering shadow, and it seemed to have grown even bigger since the last time she had seen it up close, though she knew that was impossible. Every fiber of her being screamed at her for her to run, but she had no choice but to follow Lord Markov through the front gate, past the dark courtyard, and into the castle.

As soon as she crossed the threshold, she felt an enchantment take hold of her body as the door slammed shut behind them. Her free will returned, but it was tempered by the enchantment that declared that she could not leave without Markov's permission. She could not leave the boundaries of the Manor without his express declaration. Her eyes drifted shut in mild defeat. She was lost forever, now, lost to the games of the Vampire Lord, and probably as good as dead. Still, if she gave up hope, then what use would she be to anyone? Kaelynn lifted her head, reminding herself yet again that she really had been in worse situations.

The first thing she noticed as she looked around the grand hall was that the paintings she had once seen as a child were no longer there. She voiced this observation out loud without even thinking, "You took down the paintings."

Sorin turned to her with mild surprise etched on his ageless face. "When did you see those?"

She looked at him, masking the reflexive fear she felt, "When I was a kid, someone dared me to come look through the windows of this mansion. I did, but they didn't believe me when I got back anyway. Well, except for Kaleb," she amended after a moment's thought. Gods, why was it so easy to talk to him?

"Kaleb?" He questioned, though the reason for his interest eluded Kaelynn.

"My brother. He died a year ago." Exactly a year ago, she realized, despite feeling that it had been more than one day since the first near-death incident already.

"So it was his grave you went to visit," the Vampire Lord mused quietly.

She started to nod in agreement before his words registered and she whirled on him in shock, "How did you know about that?" She tried to keep her voice level, but it wasn't working very well. Had he seriously been stalking her? Had he sent the vampire coven after her?

He watched the shock and anger on her face with that annoying, detached amusement in his eyes. "I was the one who saved your life."

That was not what she had expected, and the answer deflated her. She felt slightly dizzy, and leaned heavily against the cold, black wall. "Oh," was all she could muster for several moments. Finally, she looked up and was surprised to find him much closer than he had been previously. Shoving aside her misgivings, she asked him her question quite bluntly, "Why?"

He shrugged slightly, the amusement falling from his eyes for a moment, "It was more of a whim than a plan."

Well, he was a vampire, and they were known to be hedonistic. Evidently, her survival had not been some kind of divine act, nor Fate playing with her head. It had just been a whim by a sadistic Vampire Lord. Great. That made her feel so much better. "Well. . . thanks. I guess."

He chuckled suddenly, the sound so unexpected that it made her jump. "You're welcome," he responded in an entirely too serious tone of voice.

She looked at him again, and found him far too close for comfort, towering over her from barely a foot away. Looking up at those deep, circular pools of golden liquid made her dizzy, and she quickly looked away again without saying anything.

"I still don't know your name." His voice was low and seductive, and she could feel his breath on her hair. He was a vampire, for heaven's sake! She couldn't be finding him attractive!

Yet she did. "Kaelynn," she whispered the answer to his unspoken question softly. "Kaelynn Grey."

"Hmm," he hummed softly in the back of his throat. She was fairly certain that it was meant to be contemplative, but she found it incredibly sexy for some reason.

In the blink of an eye, he was gone, moving to the other side of the room. Apparently, he had heard something, because he was looking up towards the ceiling with a rather impatient expression. Kaelynn wasn't quite certain why, until there was a flash of white light, and then the Archangel Avacyn herself materialized in the room.

Kaelynn whimpered slightly at the purity and power radiating from the Archangel and fell to her knees in reverence.

Avacyn, however, was only looking at Sorin, and, to the shock of the kneeling girl, the great Archangel and protector of mankind bowed slightly to a Vampire Lord. "I'm afraid that I haven't been able to find the relic, Master." Avacyn's voice was so much more beautiful and melodious than Kaelynn had ever imagined, yet she was finding it difficult to concentrate on that considering to whom Avacyn was speaking.

Sorin Markov looked displeased, "Do you have anything?"

Avacyn nodded, handing him a book written with a strange script. "I believe that this is related to the relic; the presence of its purity was strong in the cave where I found it. Perhaps it will aid you in your search. I cannot read it."

Sorin frowned down at the writing, "No, nor can I. Thank you for your assistance."

Avacyn bowed, "Yes, Master." Then she departed with another flash of light.

Kaelynn was still floored by the entire proceeding, but her eyes were on the book. To her surprise, she recognized the writing, "You can't read that?" She spoke without thinking, and then clamped her teeth down on her tongue, hard.

Sorin looked at her with a scrutinizing gaze, "You can?" He sounded doubtful.

Kaelynn seriously wished that she was a better liar. "I was just wondering," she responded lamely without answering.

Sorin frowned and stalked over towards her, more menacing than seductive now, "Can you read this?" He demanded, no room for wiggling.

Kaelynn bit her tongue so hard she drew blood, but didn't answer.

Sorin frowned at her, and then suddenly sighed, doing something that surprised her greatly by brushing his cold, smooth hand against her jaw.

She immediately stopped biting her tongue in order to gasp in shock.

He frowned down at her, "Don't do that." His voice was a clear command, and she felt the enchantment adjust slightly to bind her from doing that as well. Apparently, if he so pleased, he could make his commands unbreakable. "Now, answer me," he continued rather ruthlessly. "Can you read this script?"

Kaelynn nodded without willing herself to do so. "Yes," she mumbled rather miserably.

"How?" He seemed more curious than upset now, no doubt wondering why someone like her could read something that he could not.

She shrugged slightly, "My grandmother taught me. It's a language from long, long ago, when dragons were said to roam the lands. It was a language used by the dragon shamans as a cross between the human language of that time and draconian, according to legend, anyway."

For a moment, there was something like unto respect in Sorin's golden eyes, but it was gone so quickly that Kaelynn thought she might have imagined it. "You are going to help me translate this." It wasn't so much of a command that it bound into the enchantment that held her, but it was very clear that she was going to do this. There were so many different ways that he could make her do as he pleased that the very idea of resisting him was so hilariously ridiculous that it nearly made the exhausted girl laugh.

"Yes, sir," she responded through a yawn.

Sorin looked up at her in mild surprise, and seemed to grow even more surprised when she smiled slightly at him. It was probably exhaustion that made her do it, but there was also the fact that she really held no animosity towards him at all. She had questions about Avacyn, about a lot of things, but he had not hurt her. He hadn't even threatened to hurt her. She wasn't real thrilled with the loss of some of her free will, but, as she rather unfortunately kept remembering, she had been in far, far worse situations before in her life. She couldn't even bring herself to hate some of the people that had done so much to hurt her. Why in the name of the Archangel would she hate this odd, scholarly, ancient vampire? Not to say that she liked him, of course, but Kaelynn was nice to everyone. It was in her nature.

Sorin was watching her, and she arched an eyebrow at him. He pointed at a door off to the left side of the great hall, "You can sleep in there, if you like. We'll work on the scroll in the morning."

Kaelynn stifled another yawn. "As you command," she responded theatrically, doing a sweeping bow as she backed away towards the room. As she closed the door on the master vampire, the look of bewilderment on his face was enough to make her burst into giggles that quickly sent her to sleep on the large, plush bed in the middle of the room. All in all, it didn't even come close to comparing to how bad that same day a year ago had been. In fact, it hadn't really been that bad of a day at all.

_**0-0-0-0-0** _

Sorin was baffled, and that was something that didn't happen very often. The girl, for Kaelynn Grey was far more of a girl than a woman, younger than he had originally realized, consistently did things that didn't seem remotely in keeping with what he knew of humans. First, she had acted almost at ease around him after his initial appearance, speaking with him as she might another human. She had even gone so far as to give a speech about the necessity of hope, though she did have the common sense to be very uncomfortable when she'd finished.

When he'd offered her the chance to come to his manor, he truly thought she would accept. Granted, he didn't expect her to be happy about it, but humans were driven by a desire to survive, and while she might have realized that she would be trapped in his castle, the other option would have been to risk his ire and die right there. Most humans, particularly ones with intellects like hers, would have realized that, and would have accepted simply to extend their lives. Yet she had been prepared to deny him. Had he not temporarily robbed her of free will with a vampiric charm, she would have refused and prepared to meet her death.

Once inside the castle, she seemed oddly resilient to the dampening effects of the black magic surrounding his home. Then she'd revealed that she had been brave enough as a child to get near enough to see the paintings that had once adorned the front hall. While Avacyn's arrival had stunned her, she had certainly recovered her wits soon enough, informing him of her ability to read something that he could not, most likely in an effort to prolong her life by making herself useful to him. Finally, at the end of the evening, she had actually smiled at him, responding positively to his orders after fighting him all day, and he had been certain that he had heard her giggling after she closed the door to her assigned quarters.

The only time she had reacted even remotely like other humans was when he had been attempting, mostly out of curiosity, to seduce her, yet even then she still seemed to be far too in control of herself. Yet he felt no natural resilience around her. She wasn't a white mage, and she wasn't an officer of the church. There was no reasonable explanation as to why she was so different save for the one that she herself had offered, and that was so far-fetched that Sorin hated to even consider it. Hope was not magic, and it was not a tangible thing that actually effected the world. It might have explained her higher spirits, but not her resilience. And anyway, at this point, surely she realized that she was not going to escape, so what possible reason could she have to hope?

Eventually, Sorin simply chalked down her strange behavior to exhaustion and prepared to meet someone far more defeated and, well, normal when she awoke in the morning. He expected to see someone who was obedient and quiet, rather than bright, cheery, outspoken, with actions that bordered on mocking. Yet there was a part of him, the less reasonable part, that still waited with anticipation, holding on to the ridiculous thought that maybe she would be the same this morning as she had been the night previously.

Shaking him out of his musings, the door to the bedroom opened and revealed Kaelynn. She had clearly found the adjoining room with the tub, wardrobe, and brush because she exited the room looking far better and more refreshed than she had when she'd entered. Her incredibly long brunette hair was still damp and clung to her neck and dress. The dress she wore was of similar style to the white one she'd worn previously, save for the fact that it was a forest green. He almost sighed in annoyance at the realization that she had managed to find what was likely the only modest dress in the entire castle. Still, it did bring out her bright, emerald eyes.

Her head was bowed slightly, and she was not smiling. Noting that she looked defeated, Sorin actually felt a brief flash of disappointment. It had been so long since he had had someone who wasn't so easily broken, and he had been hoping for a challenge in the strange human girl. Ah, well. Perhaps next time.

Kaelynn looked up and the two starred at each other for a few moments before she began to grow uncomfortable. "It's a nice house," the girl finally said in a rather laughable effort to break the tense silence.

Sorin resisted the urge to smirk at her, extending her discomfort by keeping his voice completely somber when he responded, "It serves its purpose."

There was another long period of silence, and, finally, she sighed, "Is there anything to eat around here?"

The question took him by surprise and a flicker of it showed on his face before he composed himself. That had been unexpected. It was also the first time a prisoner, or guest, of his home had actually brought up the subject of food. Most humans seemed to be under the impression that if they brought up food he would end up eating them. "Ah. . . yes. Follow me." He turned and started to lead her through the halls of the first floor until they eventually reached a kitchen. He nearly winced at how remarkable unsuitable it seemed. It was a mess, and clearly had not been used in a very long time. He turned to attempt to think of an alternative to using it, but his words died on his lips when he saw her face.

It was, very oddly, a similar expression to the one she had worn at the sight of the Archangel appearing in front of her. "Wow!" Saying she was enthusiastic would have been an understatement, as she ran past Sorin into the kitchen and started opening cupboards and otherwise examining everything in the room. "I've never seen. . . ." Her voice trailed off into silence as she continued to move about the room with something similar to awe in her movements.

It only then occurred to Sorin that she was a peasant girl who had likely never been in a place like this. Of course, she had not seemed this excited at the sight of the grand hall. Why was the kitchen so impressive? As he wondered at this, his eyes unconsciously followed her around the room, noting how light on her feet she was, and how gracefully she moved. He had noticed this before, when he had seen her fight, but this time he couldn't help but wonder how beautiful she would look were she actually dancing.

When he bothered to take notice of what she was actually doing, instead of watching her small, bare feet as she skipped about the room, he noticed that her enthusiasm had dimmed slightly. He arched an eyebrow at her, "Something wrong?"

She shook her head, and then hesitated, gesturing to the fully stocked pantry. "It's just, this."

The cellar was probably full too. Sorin's servants knew that he often liked to have human toys for a while, and when he bothered to keep them alive for more than a day they needed to eat. He failed to see why the mere presence of the food would bother his current plaything, however. "What about it?"

She turned to look at him, an expression of infinite sadness in her eyes as she gave him a small smile. "This much food could feed the people in Wollebank for weeks. If the cellar is stocked, then months." She sighed slightly at the floor, "And it's for what? The few poor girls that you capture and decide to mess with for a little while? At this point in time, me?" She shook her head slightly, "I don't suppose you would let me haul some of this stuff down to the border of the town?" Despite the doubt expressed in her words, she looked up as she said this, as if honestly hoping that the Vampire Master would allow it.

Sorin rolled his eyes, despite the words having stuck a nerve that he didn't think existed anymore. "Not likely," he responded coldly, and briefly considered continuing. She was a naive idealistic fool, and he knew that it would be easy to reduce her to tears with a few simple facts. There was no reason for it, however, and he let the opportunity go. After all, she wouldn't be able to read the book if she were crying.

She looked back to the kitchen with a sorrowful look before her stomach rumbled. At which point, she seemed to revert back to her hungry and happy state, albeit with her enthusiasm slightly tempered. "Well, I suppose I better use it before it all goes to waste." She started moving things about and pulling ingredients out of the pantry.

Sorin watched with mild interest. He knew nothing about cooking, for as a mortal he had had servants to do that for him, and once he had been turned, there had been no need for it. He still didn't care to learn, but he enjoyed watching her move, so he pretended he was watching her cook.

She fidgeted slightly under his gaze, but for the most part the girl ignored him, at least for a while. About half-way through, she turned to him abruptly. "Do you eat people food?"

Sorin wasn't sure whether to consider her phrasing humorous or insulting. He settled on the first, and gave her a wry smile, "I can, but I do not require it."

She looked down at the bowl she had been stirring, then back up at him. "Do you want me to make you some?"

Sorin actually had to restrain a laugh at the completely innocent expression she was giving him. Then he actually considered her question. He had had others who had cooked. Sometimes he made his servants do it for his prisoners, sometimes he made his prisoners do it themselves, but none had ever offered to make him anything. Granted, they had always been very aware of what his diet was, but it was still quite the irregularity. "Do whatever you please," he finally responded, still a bit thrown by the offer.

She looked somewhat disgruntled at that for a reason that he didn't quite understand, and then she went back to stirring, her right foot tapping the floor softly to a beat that only she could hear.

She was still chipper. Apparently, his thoughts that she had been defeated were premature. She was still as baffling as she had been the previous day. He was looking forward to the challenge, especially since he had to break her subtly so that she wouldn't shut down and stop being useful to him. He couldn't hurt her physically, either, since it might impair her ability to read the tome Avacyn had brought to him. He had to break her mentally, and he had to do it slowly and quietly, until she was simply caving to his every demand without even thinking.

She noticed him staring at her and blushed slightly, going back to her cooking with a renewed vigor.

Sorin smiled grimly. Let the games begin.


	3. Demands and Requests

They were sitting at the absurdly long table in the lavish dining hall. Kaelynn had seen very little of the manor, but she already knew for the most part what to expect. The wood was dark cherry, smooth and sleek to the touch. The colors of the house were all dark, with the curtains and carpets a dark burgundy color. The occasional tapestry hung on some of the massive walls, depicting scenes from ancient history. Some were completely foreign to her, others she recognized. The gaping doorways between rooms were covered with massive archways made of the same wood, and the staircase in the first room was smooth and carpeted, the banister curving gently as stairs wound up towards the second floor. She hadn't been up there yet, and, to be entirely honest, she wasn't certain she ever wanted that to change.

She and the Vampire Lord were sitting at opposite ends of the table. She hadn't really done that on purpose. She'd just hated to mess up the perfection of the place, and chose the chair that she had to adjust the least- the chair at the foot of the table. Sorin had, of course, sat at the head, and he seemed amused by the distance she had placed between them, but he didn't comment on it. While the gap did make conversation rather difficult, Kaelynn enjoyed the space. It gave her a chance to take stock of the situation and try and puzzle out Markov's behavior.

He was infuriating! The entire bloody time she had been cooking, he had just stood there, watching her. It was freaky, and she didn't like how unsettled it had made her. Then there was her annoyance at the massive waste of food and housing. Humans in Innistrad went hungry all the time, and sitting in the pantry and cellar of a vampire was a mountain of food. It was ridiculous! So what if he needed to feed his occasional paramours? He wasn't even here most of the time!

Kaelynn refused to even admit to herself how much it scared her that he even had food in the manor. It meant that she was not the exception; he had women here often enough to keep his food stocked. The result of that was quite simple. Even if she helped him translate that tome, he was still not going to let her go. When she finished helping him, he would just do to her what he did to every other poor girl he abducted, and she didn't even want to let her mind go there. As soon as she started thinking about that, her precarious calm and outward cheerfulness would dissolve into instant panic and and pure terror.

Once she'd finished her slim breakfast of eggs, she just sat there, staring blankly at her plate. Since he'd decided for some unknown reason to let her decide whether or not to make some for him, she had, but she doubted he was going to touch them. She hadn't really thought he was going to eat them when she'd made them, but the etiquette instilled in her by her mother wouldn't let her only make enough for herself. Even when she was kidnapped by a vampire lord, she still found herself adhering to her mother's teachings. Kaelynn would have rolled her eyes at herself had Sorin not been watching her again.

Her eyes were still on her plate, but she could feel his unnatural gaze. Eventually, she gathered her wits and decided to speak to her captor. "So, are we just going to sit here all day, or did you plan on bringing out that book?"

Sorin smirked slightly at her audacity, but rose anyway. He was gone at superhuman speeds and returned with the book in less than three seconds, pulling out a chair next to him at normal speeds and gesturing to it mutely.

Well he certainly didn't seem very chatty today, Kaelynn thought, not certain why the thought bothered her. Maybe because she didn't want to spend her last few days alive with a mute companion, vampire or no. She stood and walked over next to him, hyper aware of how close he was, her instincts screaming at her to run. Instead, she ran her hands over the leather binding on the book and opened it without asking permission. She frowned instantly. The writing was not what she had thought. It was similar, but older than what she had originally been imagining.

He noticed her frown, "Can you not read it?"

She shook her head slightly, "No, I think I can, it's just going to take longer." And be a lot more trial and error, she thought to herself, sighing internally at how much work it was going to be.

"Why?"

Kaelynn was still starring at the book, studying it so intently that she missed the dangerous note in his voice. "This isn't the same thing I was taught. It's a little different, and I wasn't exactly fluent in the language anyway. It's going to take a while."

"Or you're simply stalling in an attempt to prolong your life," Sorin hissed at her, grabbing her arm in an icy grip.

She jerked away so hard that she nearly dislocated her own shoulder. He released her in reaction, and her own momentum caused her to fall over on her rear-end, her back a foot away from the wall.

Sorin was staring down at her, and his eyes were cold and deadly. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't just kill you and decipher this myself."

Kaelynn tried to calm her erratic breathing. He really needed to not do that to her. She swallowed hard, and then met his eyes with hers, which were beginning to fill with tears. "No."

It had the desired reaction. His eyes widened slightly in shock before narrowing again, "So I should just kill you now?"

Kaelynn responded in a stronger voice this time, "Sure, why not?" Before he could say anything else, or decide to just kill her if she was going to be like this, she continued. "I will not help you like this. In case I haven't made it clear by now, death does not frighten me. I should have died a long, long time ago, and I've been prepared for it since I was a child. So if you intend on threatening me with death and physical violence, then you might as well just kill me, because I'd rather just get it over with."

Sorin stared at her for a long time, and she didn't flinch away from his gaze, waiting for him to make up his mind. She didn't fear death; she had nothing left for which to live. If he just wanted her dead, then he might as well do it, but she didn't think that he did. He had saved her life that day in the forest, put up with behavior that could probably be considered insolent at best, and up until now he had not hurt her at all. He didn't want her dead. Not right now, anyway. Finally, after what seemed to be an infinite amount of time, Sorin relaxed slightly. "Then what are your terms?" The words seemed foreign to him, and she resisted the urge to grin like a crazy person.

"First, you will never, ever grab me like that again." She kept her voice strong, despite the flash of anger in his eyes when she made a demand of him. This was dangerous, but she needed that first point to get across strongly. She could handle a lot of things, but if he kept doing that he was going to send her into a panic attack, and she really didn't want to explain that to him. "Second, please stop insinuating that I'm lying to you. I'm a really, really bad liar, and I don't do it, so it's really just a waste of both our time. Third," she met his eyes flatly, "you are going to let me haul the barrels out of the cellar and down to the borders of Wollebank. I do not need all that food."

He actually smirked at that, which greatly relieved the girl still sitting on the floor. "You intend to haul barrels packed with food up a flight of stairs, through the courtyard, and down the narrow trail to the border of the village? Also, what if I decide to have another guest?" His incredulity made Kaelynn blush, but the second implication bothered her a lot more.

"If you decide to abduct someone else, you can get more food," she responded icily, making her thoughts on that subject perfectly clear.

Sorin smirked slightly, but let it drop, "And as for the distance you will have to drag large, full, heavy barrels on your own?"

"Well, it would be a lot easier if you would help me," she muttered quietly, looking at the floor like a dejected child.

Sorin chuckled dimly, "Not a chance. You can go ahead; I'll watch."

"Such a gentleman," she mocked quietly, glaring at him without force.

He arched an eyebrow, "I am a vampire, seri, not a gentleman."

Kaelynn frowned at the impromptu nickname. "What does that mean? Rebellious child?"

He smiled wryly at her, "No, but that would be appropriate." He turned back to the book for a few moments, but when Kaelynn didn't move, he looked back at her, arching an eyebrow. "Do you plan on staying down there all night?"

Kaelynn hurried to her feet, smoothing out her dress and moving to stand next to him again, her eyes once more on the book. "I don't suppose you are even remotely familiar with this," she sighed heavily.

Sorin shook his head slightly, "I am familiar with draconic, but this appears to share very few similarities."

Kaelynn pointed to one of the symbols, "Actually, it just isn't integrated the way you might think. See? This is the symbol for fire. Do you see the similarities?"

Sorin hesitated frowning down at the pictograph, "I don't-" He cut off suddenly, recognizing the subtle smell of smoke that came when he concentrated. He blinked in mild astonishment, "It's psychic."

Kaelynn grinned at his reaction, "Exactly! Dragon's communicate psychically, so they took the field and wrapped it around each symbol with complicated enchantments. They expressed it with a scent or a soft sound that comes when you focus on a particular rune, and combined it with a slightly altered written symbol of the human language." She was excited; she really couldn't help it. Learning, reading, studying, this was that for which she used to live. Before everything had fallen apart, she had planned on joining the church and becoming a cleric, spending all of her hours in the library, studying histories, languages, and every other subject they had to offer. Despite the circumstances, this was still as fun as she remembered it being.

"That makes a surprising amount of sense," Sorin commented quietly, and frowned down at the page. "Unfortunately, the psychic field isn't enough. I will need an understanding of the runes as well, which will take time. You best start alone while I find a book on the subject."

Kaelynn looked at him funny, "Why do you need a book?"

He returned her odd gaze, looking at her like she was a dimwitted fool. "To learn, obviously."

She chuckled slightly and then shook her head, "No, silly. My point was that you don't need a book; you have me! I can translate the human symbols and you can help with the psychic imprints until you catch on. If you're anything like me, using the knowledge will help you learn a lot faster. Plus, since you know what this is supposed to be about, you can help me figure out what words would actually make sense in the context, since there are always multiple options."

Sorin stared at her for several minutes following that comment, saying nothing.

She started to get nervous. Maybe he was mad because she called him "silly". Surely someone as old as he was could recognize that she hadn't meant anything by it! "Um. . . did I say something wrong? Do you not think that I can help? Or will you learn way faster just reading about it?"

Sorin shook his head slightly, silencing her with a cold finger on her lips. "No; it is a good plan. I was simply surprised that, considering your earlier outburst, you would not leap at the chance to be away from me."

Kaelynn frowned at him, "Do you plan on breaking my rules?"

His eyes flashed at the word "rules", but he didn't address it right then, shaking his head to indicate a negative instead.

"Then we won't have a problem."

"I do have a question about one your requests, however."

She rolled her eyes at his own phrasing, but didn't argue. Whatever made him happy. "Yes?"

"Does my touch really frighten you that much?" He said it in a very flat tone, but his voice was softer than normal. Why did that surprise him? Had she managed to convey an utter lack of fear so far?

She froze, her eyes fixated on the book, "What do you mean?"

"You did not request I not threaten you. You did not ask me to treat you with respect. Your second request was practical, not personal; the third having to do with others besides yourself. Yet you began with a very vehement demand that I never touch you again."

"Touch me violently," Kaelynn corrected, not entirely accurately, still not meeting his eyes.

He touched her chin gently, turning her to face him, "Why?"

She blinked at him in surprise, choosing the most obvious explanation, "What do you mean? Maybe because I'm not a big fan of pain?"

"I have not hurt you, and I believe you to be smart enough to realize that I will not so long as you are of use to me. So if death does not frighten you, then why?"

Her eyes fell again, "Will you please let this go?"

The question took him by surprise, but his answer was swift. "No."

She rolled her eyes in exasperation and pulled her chin out of his grasp, "Well, then you're going to be prying for a long time, because I'm not going to tell you."

Sorin's eyes narrowed on her back, but he decided the battle would be best saved for another day. "We shall see."

_**0-0-0-0-0** _

They spent most of the day working on translating the book, and yet they only made it through a few of the pages, all of which had been utterly useless so far. The book seemed to be the diary of a young cleric named Arya during a great war that had swept across the plane long before Sorin's time. As of yet, there had been no information concerning the relic, but he did hope that there would be something soon.

Oddly enough, Kaelynn seemed to share his thirst for knowledge, and she had quickly gotten wrapped up in the project. Despite her strange enthusiasm in finishing the only thing that was keeping her alive, it was still slow going. There were always multiple options for each and every translation, the hieroglyphs were vague at best, and the psychic imprints were either so weak that they could hardly be perceived, or so strong that they caused Kaelynn to freeze up, her mind overwhelmed by the psychic projection.

Sorin, of course, could just cut the connection immediately since he had much greater control over such things, but since he couldn't decipher the runes, he ended up just standing there waiting for the human girl to recover anyway. It was very slow going, but despite his impatience, the day had already proven to be enlightening in other ways. He had allowed himself to lose his temper with her, wondering how she would react, and the results had been extremely interesting.

She wasn't afraid of dying. It was a strange abnormality that had been very unexpected. Self-preservation was the basest instinct of humanity; the fear of death was a common factor shared by all mortals. It was the search for a way to escape this great fear that lead to the creation of Sorin's race, and yet this girl claimed to be immune to it. She submitted that she was prepared and completely unafraid of dying. Sorin found it difficult to believe, but so far she had done nothing to disprove her words.

Though she claimed that she was not afraid of death, his action of grabbing her arm had clearly sparked some sort of deeply ingrained instincts in her. If she hadn't been afraid of him killing her, then why had she reacted so strongly? Also, she claimed she feared his touch, yet he had touched her face several times, which tended to be more of a trigger for the other women he had met, and she had never yet reacted. In fact, she seemed to all but ignore him when he did it. What was she so afraid of, if not death? She said that threatening her with death and physical violence would get him no where, so what was it that he could threaten?

To add to his annoyance, Sorin felt as though she had already given him the answer, and he just wasn't seeing it. It seemed as though it were staring him in the face, and he was missing it every time he looked at her. Was she afraid of him turning her? The thought gave him pause. It was possible, of course, and he doubted that she would be remotely pleased with him if he was to turn her into such as he was, but he didn't think that was it. Still, some experimentation was in order in that regard. Having a theory moderately improved his mood, and he started paying attention to what she was doing again.

She was exhausted. The psychic imprints were taking a huge toll on her concentration and wearing her out mentally and physically. She needed rest, yet she didn't seem to realize that herself. She was still studying the book, trying to decipher the psychic projection that was being given despite how weak it was.

Sorin closed the book with a resounding thud that almost seemed to echo in the uncanny silence.

Kaelynn jumped, looking up at him in surprise, "Why did you do that?" It wasn't an accusation, but a true question asked merely out of curiosity.

"You need rest," he pointed out flatly, bemused by her apparent obliviousness to that fact.

"Oh. Right." She looked slightly embarrassed, but also strangely reluctant.

"The book will still be here tomorrow," he told her with an amused smile, not quite certain why he was reassuring her.

"Yeah." Her melancholy and noncommittal response only served to further intrigue the ancient Vampire Lord, who regarded her with slightly narrowed eyes. Before he could say anything further to her, however, she turned and flashed him a bright grin, "See you tomorrow." She was back inside her room with the door closed behind her before he recovered from abrupt change in her attitude.

With her gone and unable to leave the house, Sorin headed towards the massive library at the opposite end of the manor. He had many such stores of knowledge, spread across several planes, but this one had what he needed. He grabbed a few books on ancient linguistics and headed back to the main dining chamber, hoping to get some more of the tome translated without aid from his baffling companion.

It was several hours later when his enhanced vampire ears began picking up words intermingled with sudden sobs coming from Kaelynn's room.

"No. Please don't. Stop. Avacyn save me." She suddenly let out a muffled yelp, and Sorin was out of his chair and across the room to her door in the blink of an eye.

He hesitated briefly before opening the door, but before he could even begin to analyze his own actions, she whimpered softly in pain and fear. Without considering why he was doing what he was doing, or how someone could have gotten into his manor without him knowing, Sorin barged into the room, prepared to kill whoever or whatever was attempting to harm his key to recovering his old powers.

The first thing he noticed was that she was fine. In fact, Kaelynn was still sleeping, completely alone aside from him, and she was physically unharmed. Just as he began to wonder if someone was, somehow, playing with his mind, she whimpered again, rolling over on the bed, her lips moving in silent pleas to an Archangel that was never going to come.

Sorin stared at her for a moment. She was having a nightmare. Of course she was. Nightmares were a fairly common occurrence for the humans of Innistrad and, in all honesty, he was a fool for not having considered it an option. She had been kidnapped from her home and brought into a strange manor, which she had been forbidden to leave, with a Vampire Lord who obviously frightened her, even if death somehow did not. It was perfectly reasonable for her to be having a distressing dream, and, in fact, Sorin could almost be glad for it. It would help break down her mental stability, which would only aid him in his attempts to re-craft her entire nature into one of complete submission and obedience to him.

He turned to leave her to her own mind. Perhaps she wouldn't be quite so chipper in the morning; her seemingly constant optimism was starting to get on her nerves.

"Help me."

Sorin froze. Her voice had been as clear as day, as if she had been speaking directly to him, asking for his help. He turned slowly, watching the girl that he had kidnapped sob quietly and shudder on the large bed. Why was he doing this? Why didn't he just turn around and leave, as he had originally intended? How was she affecting him this way? He didn't have any answers, but, for the moment, he supposed he really didn't need them.

The Vampire Lord walked over to the side of her bed and shook her shoulder gently, "Kaelynn, wake up."

She moaned slightly and pulled away from his touch, thrashing a bit in the bed.

Sighing, he sat down on the bed next to her and grabbed both of her shoulders, pinning her in place, "Wake up!"

She jerked awake, breathing heavily and pulling away from him out of reflex. She rolled over to the other side of the bed, and he just sat there, waiting for her to fully come to her senses. Once she did, she looked at him in embarrassment and confusion. "Um. . . sorry if I disturbed you."

Sorin resisted the urge to scoff. She'd been having what seemed to be a violent nightmare, and she was apologizing to him. It was a reaction he expected from someone he'd broken, but not from her. "Apology accepted," he told her flatly, and rose, preparing to leave.

"Sorin?" He froze. It was the first time she had called him by his name. "Why did you come?"

The question was generic, and for a moment he wondered if she had a deeper meaning hidden within it. Then he figured she must just be sleep deprived. Still, the question posed was one he had asked himself, and one to which he didn't know the answer. It was infuriating, but he could hardly let her know that he was uncertain about his own motives. So he lied. "You're no good to me if you're too exhausted to work on the book tomorrow. Get some rest."

He left without another word, leaving the girl alone with her thoughts, however disturbing they may have been. It wasn't often that he regretted his choice of magic specialty, but what he wouldn't give to have the talents of blue mana right this moment, to be able to read her mind. She was quite the enigma, and he was getting annoyed with his lack of progress. He was getting bored with the plane, the book, and even the girl, to an extent. It was time to find something new.


	4. The Consequences of Boredom

Sorin was bored. It was a state of mind with which he was all too familiar, and it could probably be accurately defined as the bane of his immortal, everlasting existence. He'd picked up on the language of the book with ease, and it was far from a challenge for him now. The girl was irritating as hell, and he was no longer fascinated by her, simply annoyed. She was still just another human girl, and no matter how strange and novel she may have, at times, acted, at her heart she was just as fragile and easily manipulated as any other.

He didn't even have to do anything to her to force her to break down, having terrible nightmares that caused her to cry out for Avacyn's aid. He hadn't had to hurt her in order to get her to help him translate the book. Perhaps the only reason that he had found her difficult to understand was that he was looking at her like someone that he had to break. Perhaps she was so different only because she was already broken. He didn't need to shatter her because she already had been.

It was a rather unsatisfactory conclusion, Sorin had to admit, and the theory had several holes in it. Her optimism and hopefulness, for example, did not at all go with the mental image of someone who had been previously shattered beyond repair, but there was a rather strong possibility that it was all an act. Maybe her cheerfulness was entirely self-imposed and made up of lies. Perchance it was a mask, placed over her fractured interior to shield it from being further broken, maybe even to keep her from seeing it herself when she looked in the mirror.

Taking time to consider the facts, this was the conclusion to which he had been led, and it stripped away any desire he had previously held to break the girl. Where was the fun in destroying something that was already broken? The mask would crumble with only a few carefully placed blows on his part, and once he had the book translated he already knew how to make her fall apart. A simple violent touch would have her coming apart at the seams, if her previous reaction was anything by which to evaluate her stability, and that would be the end of it.

Thus, the mystery of Kaelynn Grey had been solved, the book was completely unhelpful at the time, and Sorin was bored. He was also hungry, and these two factors combined were what had led to him leaving his mansion in the dead of night to seek out fresh prey. It didn't take him long to realize that he wouldn't be required to go far.

There was a young girl standing directly outside of the large, black, iron gate that separated his manor from the rest of the world. She was dressed in a light gray cloak made of wolf-skin and smelling strongly of lycan, which made him wrinkle his nose in mild disgust, but the girl hidden under the rugged cloak more than made up for the smell of werewolf that surrounded her clothing.

She was young, a few years younger even than Kaelynn, with golden blonde hair that fell in gentle curves around her face. Her skin was pale, shimmering under the moon, and it looked almost as completely lifeless as his own flesh, save for the fact that he could see and feel the pulsing blood running through her viens

She jumped when she saw him, her icy blue eyes flitting over his face in shock and surprise before she raised the torch held in her right hand to get a slightly better look at him. Clearly, it did nothing to help her nerves.

Despite the fact that he had discovered her outside of his property, obviously there for a reason, he chose to make the first move, "What are you doing out here all alone in the dark, child? Surely you know there are dangerous things about?" His voice was soft and soothing, layered with a hint of mesmer in order to get her to relax enough to be able to speak. A struggle would be nice, but that was hardly something he was going to get from a young, frail, fifteen year-old girl, no matter how afraid she was.

She shuddered visibly at the first sound of his voice, but she seemed to have composed herself enough to speak in the next few moments."I want to make a trade." Her voice was trembling still, but it was clear that his words and the magic he had placed into them had accomplished their purpose.

Her words made him arch a single, silver eyebrow. Was she here to bargain for immortality? It hadn't happened often over the years, but, occasionally, one would approach him or one of his kind and offer up the lives of others around him or her as well as their own blood in exchange for the curse of vampirism. They were all mad-men and fools, and usually the vampire excepted their offer, slaughtered those offered to them as a sacrifice, and then promptly killed the one who had offered the trade in the first place. Vampires were rarely in the habit of honoring their word.

She wasn't finished though, and she pressed on quickly, as though frightened that she would lose her nerve if she didn't get the words out all at once. "I'm here to trade my life for Kaelynn's."

Well that was unexpected, and, quite honestly, the words threw him for a loop. First, was she really so idiotic as to believe that this plan would actually work? Second, what in the name of the Nine Demon Lords had Kaelynn done to inspire this kind of loyalty? Sorin had enthralled slaves, he had turned servants, and he had ruled over soldiers, yet he knew not a one of them who would have offered themselves as a willing sacrifice for him without the threat of something infinitely worse hanging over their head. Of course, he wouldn't have done that for them, either. This kind of loyalty didn't come through fear, it came through love, and Sorin found himself incredibly curious once more.

"Really? And why should I accept this offer?" He kept his voice detached and cold, keeping the sudden rush of curiosity to himself. It simply wouldn't do for this mortal girl to know that she had some kind of leverage above her own body- a body that was suddenly and inexplicably losing all interest to the Vampire Lord.

She drew herself up rather than wilting down under his gaze, and he had to restrain a bemused smile at her futile actions. "Because if you don't I'll go to the Church. They may not be able to defeat you, but it would certainly be an inconvenience. Or you can just take me, let her go, and not have to worry about any of it."

The logic made a bit of sense, and if Kaelynn had just been another victim, he might have considered it. As it was, however, he just showed her his sharp fangs in a shark-like smile. "And why should I not just take you both, since you have so willingly offered yourself?"

The girl swallowed, hard, and now she did wilt down, seeming to fold in on herself and become half of her previous size. "The townspeople will miss me," her voice was barely audible now. "They would come looking."

Sorin snorted outright at the blatant lie, and then quickly ensnared her with his magic, freezing her in place. He walked over and gently brushed her golden hair back from her face, "A word of advice- on the off chance that you actually survive this, the next time you feel the urge to offer yourself to a Vampire Lord, have the common sense not to do so in person with absolutely no way to combat their magic." He grabbed her arm and steered her into the mansion, past the door where Kaelynn was still sleeping. It was, after all, the middle of the night.

He tugged her into his study, and sat her down on the couch, where he released some of the magic binding her, altering her intentions so that she was no longer hostile towards him, nor unduly frightened of him. Then he sat down next to her, giving the young girl a soft, fake smile. "Now, tell me everything you know about Kaelynn Grey, including why you were so willing to sacrifice your life for hers."

_**0-0-0-0-0** _

Kaelynn wasn't quite as early coming out of her room that morning. The first night in the mansion she'd been too tired to have nightmares, but last night she hadn't been so lucky. And, of course, the bloody, infuriating vampire had come into her room and saved her from the memories. He had been so. . . gentle about it, too. It was weird. She had disturbed his, well, whatever vampires do at night, but he hadn't been mad. He'd just woken her up and left. He didn't pry, not that he cared, and he hadn't hurt her. The whole incident left her feeling confused, with too many positive feelings towards her captor.

He had saved her from the nightmares, and, despite knowing that he had probably only done this for his own benefit, it severely altered the way that she saw the Vampire Lord. She was being ridiculous. She couldn't consider him a friend. It was just wrong. Yet, so far, he had done little to nothing to prove that he was the monster everyone said he was. She tried not to judge people by appearances or rumors, and so far his actions had only led her to believe that he was a task-oriented, slightly hedonistic control freak. He was also a bit impatient for a five or six thousand year old vampire, but none of this led to the belief that he was evil.

Beyond that, Avacyn herself had actually showed up in his home in order to give him something, which had to say something good about his character. He had also expressed a strange interest in her personal life, despite having no requirements to do so. He had saved her life even before he knew that she could help him read that book. He hadn't hurt her, though she was totally in his power. As she thought more on this, she suddenly realized that he reminded her of Jared.

That thought froze her in place even as she started to move towards the door. She had successfully managed not to think of Jared for quite some time now, and the fact that Sorin reminded her of that man wasn't a particularly good thing. She sat down at the foot of her bed, trying to reassure herself that she'd been referring to Sorin's sense of humor and the way he smirked at her when she was trying poorly to make a point, or the fact that he seemed to find her discomfort amusing. That was all she had meant by it. This was not her gut trying to tell her that Sorin was just as unstable and likely to hurt her as Jared had been. They were completely different people.

Sighing at her own reaction to even thinking his name, Kaelynn took a deep breath. Regardless of her internal struggle, she had decided to given Sorin Markov the benefit of the doubt. Shoving aside memories of her somewhat troubled past, Kaelynn smiled broadly and exited the room, pleased with her decision. Life was easier when she wasn't trying to decide if the people around her were going to try and kill her.

Humming an old song that Isaac used to sing to her and his own daughter when they'd been growing up, Kaelynn started looking for her vampire friend. Yes, she had decided to consider them friends. How else would one describe their relationship? Not finding him in any of the rooms with which she was familiar, Kaelynn frowned and continued to look for him. She froze at the sound of feminine laughter coming from a room she had not yet entered.

Shoving aside her misgivings, Kaelynn walked over to the door and, finding it already open, pushed it inwards so that she could see. The view that followed shocked her more than seeing Avacyn had.

There was a girl, still a teenager, dressed in a flimsy white dress lying on the couch in the study-like room. She had blonde hair and dancing blue eyes. Lying on top of her, supporting his weight on his elbows and obviously flirting (flirting, seriously?) was Sorin. The girl was clearly enthralled, and she giggled and laughed and shoved at his shoulder as a teenager might do with a normal boyfriend. The sight before Kaelynn was shocking enough before she realized who the fifteen year-old girl was. It was Abigail, Isaac Morsh's daughter and someone who had grown up alongside of her and Kaleb and been as a little sister to Kaelynn.

At the sight of her underage sister, who obviously had no clear control over her own actions, lying underneath a predatory vampire, all previous thoughts about giving Sorin the benefit of the doubt flew out the window. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" She yelled at him, losing her temper without thinking about the consequences. "Get your hands off of her!"

Sorin looked up, an amused expression on his face, as he brushed Abigail's hair back from her forehead. "Why would I do that?"

Kaelynn suddenly felt incredibly nauseous, her stomach churning. "Get your hands off of my sister, you monster," she hissed at him, white hot rage growing in her chest.

Sorin's eyes flattened, and he rolled off of Abigail, landing gracefully on his feet in front of Kaelynn. He stalked slowly towards her, anger burning in his golden portals. "You do not give me orders," he growled softly, threatening, and he reached out and grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip.

It was the same motion that had nearly set her off yesterday, the same thing that she had demanded he not to do her anymore. Clearly, he no longer felt that he needed her. Rather than recoiling, she jerked forwards, towards him, in order to get the slack that she needed to bend down and whip out the blessed blade that was still strapped to her leg. Without thinking, she drove it forward into his shoulder.

Sorin hissed in pain and recoiled away from her, the entire thing having taken him by surprise.

Kaelynn ran over and grabbed Abigail, yanking her off the couch despite the younger girl's obvious reluctance. "Come on, Abby!"

She pulled her friend to the main exit in the grand hall and tried to open the door, but to no avail.

Moments later, there was a soft whooshing sound and Kaelynn found herself slammed back into the wall, looking down at the Vampire Lord that she had stabbed. There was nothing but fury in his eyes, and he had her by the throat, lifting her off the ground and choking her.

Abigail didn't react, standing still as a stone, completely controlled by the vampire.

Kaelynn's vision started to blur, and she half-expected him to kill her.

Right before she was about to pass into unconsciousness, however, he released her, and she fell to the floor on her hands and knees before him, gasping for air.

He grabbed her hair and forced her to look at him, practically spitting out the words in anger. "You will never, ever, challenge me again." He dropped her to the ground and walked away, Abigail trailing behind him.

Kaelynn sat there for several moments, staring after him with dead eyes, before everything that had happened crashed down on her. Then, for the first time since that monster had kidnapped her, she curled up into a ball and wept bitterly.

_**0-0-0-0-0** _

Sorin was furious. He was enraged beyond anything he had felt in a very, very long time, and it hardly had anything to do with the fact that she had stabbed him, though that had actually hurt. In fact, he was even more angry with himself than he was with her. He had allowed himself to get pulled into the game, to be manipulated into thinking of her as nothing more than an innocent victim, someone completely and utterly harmless, even when he had seen evidence to the contrary.

Oh, it had been so easy to simply forget that the very first time he had seen her, she had slain five vampires all on her own. It had been simple to ignore the signs sitting right in front of his face like the blessed blade strapped to her leg. No, it had taken the appearance of her so-called "sister" and the knowledge that she had been forced to reveal to him for him to see what he should have realized right from the beginning. Kaelynn was anything but an innocent victim; she was an Inquisitor for the Church sent to kill him. She probably would have done it sooner, but for the fact that Avacyn's appearance no doubt threw her for a loop.

No innocent victim, so young and untrained, would have had the presence of mind to deny him his requests. She had to be a zealot for the Church in order to not fear death; it was the only thing that made sense. She knew how to read an ancient language that even he found mysterious; where else would she have learned how to do that if not studying at the Church? She had had the gall to order him around in his own house, and he had let her. He had stood there and agreed to her terms, trusting her with the knowledge in the book, believing that she was harmless. Ha! He hadn't been such a completely and utter gullible idiot for many, many years, and he hated being played for a fool.

The blonde girl (Abigail, wasn't it?) had obediently followed him back to the study, and he really should have fed off of her. The smart thing to do would be to regain his strength before torturing all the information about the Church that he could get out Kaelynn Grey and then killing her, too. However, when he brushed the blonde hair back from her neck, he found that his hunger seemed have to deserted him. Instead, he simply sent Abigail home with a mental command. She would have no memory of meeting him last night.

It was barely moments after he had sent the girl away that he focused on Kaelynn, listening for what she was doing now, and the sound that met his ears was not what he had been expecting. She was crying. No, that wasn't quite right- Kaelynn was weeping. He could hear the stuttered sobs as she struggled to breathe through her tears. In years previously, this would have excited him. He would have taken pleasure in listening to her cry heartlessly, mourning for the sister and friend that she presumed to be dead. Now, though, it all felt very empty. Perhaps because she was nothing that he had originally thought her to be?

The realization that her lies actually seemed to bother him in and of themselves disturbed Sorin greatly. Anger at being manipulated was the way he ought to react, but hurt because of her lies? That was just foolishness. It only took him a moment to identify the reason that he cared, and that caused him to scoff at his own weakness. He had seen her as a path to redemption, but since when had he cared about redemption, much less seen it as a viable option? His sins would never be forgiven, and he didn't want them to be.

An understanding of the way that he felt, however, seemed to drain him. He didn't want to string the girl up and torture her to take his revenge or get information. He just wanted her gone. He was weary of her presence, her lies, and her constant reminder of the one sin that he sometimes wished he had not committed, despite its necessity. His mind made up, he went to the main dining chambers to wait for her to come and find him again, as he knew she would eventually.

He was still there, reading the tome on his own, when Kaelynn came as he'd predicted. Her face was stained with tears and her eyes were bloodshot, but she didn't even seem to notice. "I'd like your permission to start carrying the food in the cellar down to the borders of Wollebank."

He stared at her for a moment, trying to determine if he should go back on his word. Eventually, though, he realized that this was how she was planning on escaping. If he lifted the enchantment to let her go into town, she could escape. A part of him wanted her to know that he was allowing her freedom, that she hadn't outsmarted him, but a stronger part wanted her to live in continual fear of him coming after her, never knowing if she'd truly escaped or not. "Fine; the enchantment has been lifted. You can go into town now."

She nodded once in recognition and then she was gone.

Thoughts whirled through his head, but he was tired of this. He didn't want to rehash what had already been done; the past was set in stone. Rather, he focused on the book, looking for any reference to the relic. Once he found it, he could leave this blasted plane and its lying denizens behind, as well as the reminders of his own previous actions.

Even within the book, though, he still couldn't find a reprieve from reminders of Kaelynn and his past. Arya seemed so much like the girl he had stolen that he was beginning to think it couldn't be a coincidence. The young cleric spoke of the war and of her own ascension within the church. It hadn't been the Church of Avacyn back then; Avacyn hadn't yet been created. There hadn't been monsters yet either, at least not vampires. By the sound of the war, though, there were still plenty monsters, they were just the sort that liked to hide in plain sight.

Arya had been smart. She had been experimenting with different magics, learning new ways to manipulate white mana. Sorin actually learned a few things from her experiments. It was getting easier to read the book, the language flowing more readily now, allowing him to get through a good chunk of the diary. It seemed that the young mage, who had quickly ascended to the rank of High Cleric, was concerned with the effect the war might have had on the plane. She was attempting to create something that could purify the entire plane, something that she called the Purest Soul.

Sorin stared at the page for several moments, stunned. It was real. Not only was the relic real, but it had originated on his plane, and this foolish girl who had existed millennium ago had created it. Now he just needed to learn where she had hidden it. He smiled broadly in triumph. Soon, he would be free of this place, and Kaelynn could be forgotten. He could place the infuriating child, her lies, and the reminders she brought of his past out of his mind completely.

Just to make certain that she had taken the bait, Sorin looked around the house for a few moments, ending his search for the Church spy outside on the edge of the courtyard, near the same place that he had met Abigail, but Kaelynn was gone. She'd run away, just as he had intended, probably back to the Church to inform them of what she'd learned. Sorin turned and walked back inside the manor. He had a book to decipher; Kaelynn and him were done.


	5. Of Times Long Forgotten

The crypt was shaking under the weight of the forces outside, and had Arya been any less devote or completely committed to her goddess, she probably would have cursed. How had she allowed them to be cornered here? It was the height of stupidity, and now they would all suffer for her ignorance in the ways of strategy. She may have been a competent white mage and the elected High Priestess, but that did not qualify her to hold the position of general. Fortunately, she had other people for that job.

"Duncan!" She turned, her white dress flaring out around her as she marched away from the clerics who were currently barricading the door to keep the hordes of necromantically raised zombies at bay. They were also shutting off the only way out of the crypt, but it was either that or be eaten alive. She could hear the screams outside, and she violently pushed them from her mind. Focusing on the death or the overwhelming odds would do nothing for either her or her soldiers. She needed to be strong. It seemed like the only thing she really could do at the moment.

Her general was standing in the back of the crypt with some of the regular soldiers, Kiren at his side. The young ranger saw her first and grinned up at the high priestess with such a blindingly bright smile that she couldn't help but return it. Sometimes she wondered if he weren't a gift sent from the Goddess Iylaria herself to keep Arya's spirits high. Kiren nudged Duncan, who looked up and immediately bowed slightly.

As always, the action always made Arya feel a bit odd and foolish. No matter how long it had been since she had been appointed High Priestess of the Church of Light, she still felt like the young cleric who had only joined the Church to want to learn and out of a strong devotion to the Goddess that had protected her throughout her childhood years when she really ought to have died. She didn't deserve to be praised. Nevertheless, her station demanded respect, and she inclined her head in response to the general. Regardless of how uncomfortable it made her, she knew how she ought to react, and for the sake of those around her, she must always be strong, proper, and the perfect image of High Priestess. It was Iylaria's will.

Duncan gestured to the war table, and Arya moved to stand across from him, looking down at the roughly drawn map of the crypt and surrounding lands. It was moderately difficult to see, for the entire thing seemed to be colored over with black. She frowned at the map for a long time before finally voicing her question, "What does that depict?" She gestured to the black markings, arching an eyebrow at her general.

Duncan sighed heavily, "The hordes of the undead."

Arya's eyes widened before she could cover her surprise. She knew the hordes had been growing, but this? And they were trapped in a crypt in the middle of a graveyard with no help or sanctuary in sight. They were all going to die.

The realization hit her hard, and she struggled to suppress her doubt. Lady Iylaria had seen her through worse. Her eyes were drawn back to the map, blackness covering at least three of the surrounding towns meaning that they had been destroyed and turned into more undead. Okay, well, maybe not worse, but that hardly meant it was beyond the Goddess' ability.

Kiren seemed to be reading her mind. "We'll find a way out of this, Priestess," he assured her. "You might not see the way out yet, but the Goddess will provide."

Sometimes she wondered why he hadn't joined the Church. On occasion, he seemed to have more faith in the Goddess than even she could muster. She nodded once in response to his words, "Of course. We must have faith."

"A decent strategy couldn't hurt either," Duncan cut in, not disrespectfully, but always practical. She didn't have to wonder why he had never joined the Church; Duncan was far too much of a soldier to have a great deal of faith in something he couldn't see. Neither Arya nor Iylaria slighted him for his lack of faith; he was still an incredible general and a good man.

Arya nodded once, confidently, and listened as the general laid out the situation. It was, as she had previously determined, not good. Their best bet seemed to be to try and forge their way through while they still had strength, since you couldn't exactly outlast an army of undead, but with the sheer numbers out there and without knowing exactly how far the hordes stretched, it was almost assuredly a suicide mission.

After listening to all the options, Arya nodded slowly, "I will retire to the back to pray on this. Perhaps Iylaria will enlighten me as to her chosen path."

"Not to discredit the Goddess, but what if she doesn't?" Duncan asked softly, keeping his voice low that the soldiers might not hear his words.

Arya met his brown eyes with her icy blue ones, sighing heavily, letting him see her weariness. "I don't know, Duncan." Her eyes dropped to the map in front of her. "Perhaps this is the end. Maybe, regardless of all that we have done, all that we have fought, perhaps this is the day that the last of the living are extinguished from our world. Our home will become the eternal graveyard, and we will retire to Iylaria's Everlasting Rest." Arya looked up with fire burning in her blue eyes, "But until the last one of us dies, Duncan, we will not give up; we will not loose faith, and we will fight."

She took a deep breath, and then turned to go into the back of the room in order to pray. Pray, but also think. Iylaria did not speak to humans, but she did plant ideas in their minds. If Iylaria would just give her the spark of inspiration, perhaps a plan could be formed. "Goddess, help us," Arya murmured as she turned away from the door.

Just then, one of the windows of the crypt smashed inwards and the zombies began pouring into the room. Arya whirled pulling on the mana and crafting a spell, white fire lancing out from her hands and purging the zombies before crafting a lattice over the door to keep the rest of the horde at bay. They seemed to be attacking with a renewed vigor now that the defenses had been broken, no matter how briefly, but the ward held, keeping them outside perhaps more effectively than the window had.

Arya frowned down at her own hands. The power had been hers, yes, but there had been something more fueling it. Somehow, she had gotten a boost to her own energy reserves, an increase to her power, but how? Eyes widening in realization, she ran to the back of the crypt where the entire reason for their being so far out away from the citadel rested.

The Purest Soul, a relic she had painstakingly crafted with the power of the last of the Light Dragons, sat on a pedestal in the back of the crypt. And it was glowing. The white light was fading, but it was clear that it had boosted Arya's power when she had previously used white mana. Its purpose was to heal the world after the end of the war, something to give the people hope that when and if they finally won, their home would not be forever fractured from the memory of the war.

It was a promise. A promise that not only would they win, but that when they did win the sun would return in brighter force once more, the undead would be entirely purged, and the darkness would flee. It was a bargain that even though the dragons were gone, the plane would be able to return to what it once was. It was a blessing, the power of the dragons encased in a silver gem and bestowed unto the High Priestess of Iylaria. It was hope, for without hope, wherein lies the purpose of living?

Arya's hands ghosted over the relic, wondering. What if, somehow, it had become more than all of that? What if the power within could be released now? What if the cleansing, purifying wave could be crafted into something more direct? What if, instead of seeping into the land to heal the entire world over time, it could be used to scour the land of undead? It had not been meant as a weapon, but the entire necromatic horde was gathered outside of the crypt, and if they fell here they lost everything. What if it could be their salvation?

The High Priestess lifted the relic as if in a trance, feeling the power surge through the artifact and into her, giving her power beyond anything she had ever felt. Kiren walked into the room and gasped. Arya blinked, and looked down at herself, realizing that she was glowing. The power was insane; it was intense and overpowering. She could hardly think for the light that filled her mind. In fear, she dropped it, the stone clattering on the ground and the glow fading back to normal.

"Pardon my language, but holy shit!" Kiren exclaimed at the sight.

Arya couldn't help herself, she smirked. That was certainly one reason Kiren probably didn't want to join the Church. Her ranger friend had quite the foul mouth at times. The loss of the massive reserves of energy caused her to slip down against the side of the crypt.

Kiren rushed to her side, "Are you alright?"

She smiled distantly up at him, an odd sense of clarity filling her. She knew what she had to do. She knew what the price would be. She knew, and she was at peace. "Kiren, when this is over, I think the two of us need to have a long conversation."

He frowned, "Oh?"

Her smile grew more true, and she grinned at her best, and perhaps only friend. "You have gotten me through every moment of doubt, and at every moment when I would have given in, you have always stood by my side. You may very well be my only friend, ranger." She suddenly chuckled sadly, "And I don't even know your last name."

His smile grew soft, "You are my priestess, Lady Arya. You are the symbol of light and hope for this entire people. And you are alone." He grinned, "Seemed like the least I could do was to stand there and crack jokes in the face of disaster to give you a second to cover your fear so that you could lead millions of people."

Arya looked deep into his eyes, and then stated bluntly, "Under different circumstances, Kiren, I think I could have loved you."

He grinned even bigger, "Nah. You're far too much of a goody-two-shoes."

Both of them laughed, and then Arya stood, leaning against the crypt wall. "When it's over, come and find me, and bring the monks. I have a few instructions to leave to you all."

Kiren frowned, helping to support her, "When what's all over? Arya, what are you talking about?"

She looked at him once more, "You didn't tell me."

He arched an eyebrow, "Tell you what?"

"Your last name."

He grinned, "You didn't ask."

Shaking her head slightly, she smiled and asked. "What is your name?"

He winked, but grew very serious, "Ask me again when this is over."

"What if I can't?"

"Well, now you have to."

She blinked away sudden tears, and leaned forward, embracing her confidant and strongest supporter. "Thank you, Kiren, for everything."

"Thank you, High Priestess." He pulled away, "Speaking for the entire world, for everyone living here now and everyone who will live hereafter, thank you, Blessed Arya, High Priestess of Iylaria."

Arya knelt and picked up the silver stone, the power raging through her mind once more. No one stopped her or did much more than gape as she began glowing golden, floating above the ground and out to the front door of the crypt. With a wave of her hand, the barricades were all gone and she moved outside before the undead hordes. They attacked her, but the power of the Purest Soul disintegrated them into nothing before they could get within a foot of her.

She raised her head, looking out over the fields of undead, and then the glowing became far more vibrant. The golden light exploded outwards from her figure, rushing across the land and purging all of the undead in its wake. It traveled throughout the entire plane of Innistrad, ending the Scourge in Arya's time and many generations after it. The event would come to be known as the Purge, and for hundreds of years, Arya Duvane was proclaimed as the savior of all the world.

As the golden light left her body, she collapsed to the ground, lying face down in the dirt. Kiren and the monks he had gathered ran forwards and rolled her over. The young ranger checked for a pulse, frightened beyond belief that she was dead, "Arya! Arya, come on, say something. You said you had something else to tell us!"

Arya slowly opened her eyes, a soft smile lighting her face, "Hey."

Kiren breathed a sigh of relief, "Don't do that, High Priestess, it ain't funny."

"You called me by my name earlier," she pointed out softly.

He shrugged sheepishly, "Yeah, sorry about that. It's what you get when you scare the hell out of me."

She shook her head, "No. It was. . . nice. To just be Arya again."

He frowned, "You still got some more work ahead of you though. Got to hold on to that title a little bit longer."

She smiled, "Kiren. . . . This is the end. This is my end. But-listen!" She interrupted his automatic objections. "I created the Purest Soul to heal the land from the Scourge, but Iylaria clearly meant it for something else. I did not create it to be a weapon, but that is what it has become. The power. . . . It can't be allowed to fall into the wrong hands, Kiren."

"Then what do we do with it?" He was all business now. It was better that way.

"Find my sister. She's married now, with children. I want you and the monks to find a way to bind it to her line, that every eldest daughter with a pure heart of her descendants is born with the power inside of them. I know that such a task seems impossible right now, so research it. Find a way. It's the only way I can trust it to be safe."

Kiren nodded slowly, "Understood."

"Kiren?"

"Yes, Hi-" He stopped. "Arya."

She smiled faintly, her eyes growing dim, "You said when it was over. . . you would answer my question. What's your name, Kiren?"

Her eyes drifted shut before he could respond, the constant blue fire that had been in the since the day he had first met her finally extinguished.

Kiren sighed softly, "Goodbye, Arya."

Arya was buried with great honors at the Citadel, proclaimed forever as the savior of the world. Her diary was found among her personal things and remanded by General Duncan to Kiren's care. He and the monks took the diary, this book, and the relic known as the Purest Soul to a small cave to research a binding spell that would do as Arya had requested with her dying breath. It took several years, but a way was eventually found, and the Purest Soul was bound to the genetic line of Amanda Duvane-Remedy, Arya's sister.

This book was left in the care of the monks, who continued to live in the cave, recording each descendant and each person who unknowingly carried the Purest Soul, died, and passed it on all without ever using it.

One who has diligently read this tome will have realized that most of it was written by Arya in the first person, for it is the record of her life. This last section was written after her death by me, one of those who was present, and the first guardian of the relic after Arya's death, Kiren Markov.

The list of Relic Guardians as recorded by the monks can be found below:  
_High Priestess of the Light, Arya Duvane_  
 _Kiren Markov_  
 _Aerith Gainsborough_  
 _Melody Pond_  
 _River Tam_  
 _Inara Serra_  
 _Mara Jade_  
 _Auri Wind_  
 _Rinoa Heartilly_  
 _Jasnah Kholin_  
 _Tifa Lockhart_  
 _Yuna Summoner_  
 _Schala Magus_  
 _Vivenna Awakener_  
 _Kaelynn Grey_


	6. No Turning Back

Sorin stared at the page for several moments in utter disbelief. The Purest Soul- the relic that could restore the god-like abilities of the Planeswalkers before the Mending, the artifact for which he had been searching since he had come to Innistrad, the key to defeating that bloody dragon- had been in his fucking house! He had held the ability to place himself on an even footing with his arch nemesis, to make certain that nothing ever actually threatened him again, sitting right in his grasp, and _he had let it go_. It would have been bad enough if someone had stolen it from him, but he didn't even have that excuse. He had let her walk right out the door!

And why? Why had he allowed this infuriating agent of the Church who happened to hold the most powerful white relic in existence within her being go free? Because she had made him feel _guilt_. Somehow, she had managed to awaken the last remnants of humanity that he had tried so hard to bury over the years, and, of all the things that he could have experienced, she had made him feel _guilty_. And for what? The millions of lives that he had taken, the lies that he had peddled across the Mutiverse, the manipulation of hundreds of planes that had come and gone? No. She made him feel guilty for something that had been necessary! Something that had even saved the lives of humans across Innistrad!

Sorin growled in frustration, slamming the book shut with so much force that the table under the book splintered, a fracture appearing in the perfect facade of his so-called home. Ever since Kaelynn had come into his life, his intelligence seemed to be slowly degrading. First he had failed to recognize the girl as an agent of the Church, even though the signs were sitting in front of his face, and now he had allowed the _Purest Soul_ to walk out the front door! He had to find her again, only there was practically no doubt in his mind that she had run back to the Church. Retrieving her would entail a complete frontal assault, and, no matter his power, he could not achieve that alone.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, as damaging more of his furniture would do nothing to aid his predicament, Sorin analyzed the situation with as much detachment as he could muster under the circumstances. Obviously, he needed to recover the girl, but, as she was an agent of the Inquisition, she had most certainly returned to the chapel in Silbern to report to her superiors. He needed to get into the Church, which would require an army. That was the easy part; armies were easy to come by for a Vampire Lord. All he needed to do was call, and all manner of creatures of the night would flock to his mansion. In less than a day, he would have a fighting force, which, while it might not have been skilled, the numbers and unholy powers would have more than made up for the lack of training.

Unfortunately, if he got a pack of feral vampires to attack the Church, there was a good chance that his prize would end up dead. Then the Purest Soul would go into an unknown, unwitting vessel, and Sorin would be back at the beginning with no way of knowing where the relic was, especially since it seemed that Avacyn had no way of detecting it so long as it remained dormant inside a person.

That is, there was little chance of Kaelynn surviving if his vampires _won_.

On the other hand, if it were merely a distraction, Sorin and some of his more trusted allies could slip into the Church under the cover of the attack and spirit Kaelynn back to the mansion. By the time the officials realized she was gone, they would already be safe inside Markov Manor, and not even the brash, relatively powerful Inquisition would dare to assault Sorin's abode. He had garnered enough of a reputation over the years to ensure that he was left alone by anyone of moderate intelligence.

Satisfied with the beginnings of a plan, Sorin headed over to the eastern wing of the manor, since the odds of finding anyone in the main wing were quite low. Those few that he allowed to live in the place that had once been his home knew him well enough to recognize that he didn't much care for company. They were also familiar with his habits of allowing his human pets to run around freely in the main area of the mansion. It was with the understanding that they were not to enter the main wing without Sorin's express invitation that those select few elder vampires were allowed to stay in his abode.

As Sorin passed to the back of the mansion in order to reach the single, large, wooden door that led to the other portion of the manor, a whispered voice from behind him forced him to pause briefly in his steps. He turned slowly, regarding the identical wooden door behind him that led to the west wing of the house. Sorin stared at it for several moments, sensing the wards shifting and moving in reaction to their creator's presence. Layer upon layer of defenses lay interlaced across the door, preventing anyone from entering. Or leaving.

Sorin stared at the door for several moments, listening to the whispers, feeling the tendrils of mana reach out to his mind gently caressing his consciousness. Then he drew up his mental walls and added yet another ward to the always growing network of defenses latticed across the western wing of the mansion. With that done, he took a deep, calming breath. This entire thing had gotten him too on edge. He'd been in one place for far too long; he needed to find Kaelynn, restore his abilities, and then get off the plane. There were worse things than ancient, manipulative, planeswalking dragons in the Multiverse, and he had pissed off more than his fair share. The last thing he needed was for one of them to find him here.

With one last glare sent in the direction of the sturdy, enchanted door across the hall, Sorin entered the eastern wing, only to nearly collide with the vampire standing on the other side of the doorway.

Vale looked up from the old, leather bound book he was studying with a glare and a slight jump. "What the hell?"

Evidently, both vampires had been too engrossed in their thoughts to notice the other approaching. Sorin very nearly rolled his eyes at his own obliviousness. Vale tuning out the world to focus on his research was nothing new, but the elder Vampire Lord was rarely so lax.

Once Vale had recovered from his shock, he seemed to realize who it was, exactly, that had surprised him. "Sorin? Demon Lords, man, you shouldn't sneak up on people like that!"

Sorin allowed himself a slight smile. "It's rather hard not to sneak up on you when you have your head in a book, Vale."

He snorted. "Bah, you just have a flair for the dramatic. Always have."

Sorin felt himself relaxing slightly just at the familiar banter. He may not have trusted Vale implicitly, there wasn't a single person in the Multiverse who held that status, but the general had been with him through much and was one of his oldest friends. Vale and the few others in the eastern wing were some of the few who hadn't abandoned or attempted to kill Sorin after his creation of Avacyn. They were the friends who hadn't deserted him after his act of so-called betrayal against his own kind. After remaining by his side through something like that, as well as through worse on occasion, Sorin felt that he could trust them not to attempt to murder him either in battle or in his own house. That might not seem like much, to normal people, but to the ancient vampire, it was about as much trust as anyone ever got from him.

"Ah, but at least I own up to my flaws." And that, unfortunately, was too good an opening to ignore. Sorin took a deep breath, and Vale swallowed whatever retort he had seeing the seriousness in his lord's eyes. "Speaking of flaws. . ." Sorin met the general's eyes, "I need your help with something."

_**0-0-0-0-0** _

High Inquisitor Jeremiah walked through the cold, stone hallways of the chapel at Silbern. It had been a good, profitable day.

Shockingly enough, the rumors pervading the countryside about the Markov Manor had been true. It seemed that Sorin Markov had indeed returned to the establishment. Now, the manor had never really been completely abandoned, despite some of the people believing that to be the case, but there was always far less commotion coming from the mansion when Lord Markov was away on one of his untraceable trips. The times when he returned always signaled the beginning of trouble for the people of Innistrad, even if the Vampire Lord wasn't necessarily the cause of the difficulties.

The rumors about the Markov Demon were completely preposterous, of course, but the Church was obligated to look into the manor anyway, just to put the people's fears at rest. It was during this routine sweep of Wollebank that a few things had been discovered. First, his guards swore that Markov had indeed returned. Second, they had found a young girl who had, apparently, been enthralled by the older vampire. She didn't seem to have any idea where she'd been, but it seemed clear that she was either in the process of turning into one of the abominations or was working with the demons.

In either case, they had brought the girl back to the chapel for an examination, though she swore that she had nothing to do with the vampires and that she felt fine. It was truly a pity; she was quite a beautiful girl, and it seemed like such a waste to simply chop off her head and be done with it, yet that was exactly what they would probably have to do. Unless she were a demonfriend, in which case she would be held in the deepest dungeon until she told the Inquisitors exactly what Vampire Lord Markov's plans were. The young blonde didn't strike Jeremiah as being a betrayer, but neither had that other girl.

Jeremiah entered the door at the end of the hallway, humming one of the hymns softly to himself as he prepared an herbal concoction. He considered shedding his robe, but he wouldn't be spending enough time here to warrant it. All his clothes were embroidered with gold designs with the symbol of Avacyn on the back of both the robe and the tunic hidden beneath it. Still wordlessly singing praises to the Archangel, he turned to the suspected spy who was hanging down from a wooden beam set horizontally across the circular chamber by chains wrapped around her wrists, whimpering softly in fear.

Her dress, which had once been white and beautiful in its simplicity, was now stained with dirt and blood and torn in many places across her body. The pale skin of her arms was streaked with lines of red blood, contrasting starkly with the colorlessness of the rest of the room. The blood came from her wrists as the chains that were suspending her just high enough so that her toes couldn't quite touch the floor dug into her skin and caused her to bleed. Her blonde hair was in complete disarray and her icy blue eyes were filled with water, while her face and eyes were red from the tears she had already spent.

"Please," she whispered brokenly, "please let me go. I haven't done anything wrong."

The High Inquisitor moved forward, looking at her with deceptively gentle brown eyes. "No, my child, I do not believe that you have."

Her eyes lit with hope, "Then you've come to free me?"

He smiled at the young, innocent child with a fatherly expression. "I cannot, little one. Regardless of whether or not you deserve this fate, you entered the old one's manor. You are either a demonfriend or, as I believe, you have been touched by the curse of the vampire. Either way, you cannot be allowed to leave."

The girl whimpered once again, her breathing becoming uneven as she tried to hold back tears. "I'm not! He didn't bite me, and I am not a demonfriend!"

He stroked her face gently, "It's alright to cry, my dear. But there is no need. If you have been touched by the vampire's curse, than soon this will all be over." It was true. The ceiling of the torture chamber was made of a glass dome, and at the first dawn after they were turned, new vampires were incredibly susceptible to sunlight. She would burn. "May Avaycn have mercy upon your wandering soul," he whispered, tracing the Archangel's symbol upon her forehead with his finger. Then High Inquisitor Jeremiah force fed her some drugs to knock the poor girl unconscious, and left the room.

He was planning on heading to his office to catch up on some paperwork when one of the cathars jogged up to him in the hallway, bowing slightly, "High Inquisitor."

Jeremiah frowned down at the shorter man; there were few who matched him for height. "What news?" There was no other reason for the man who be approaching him.

"A young woman is without the gates and she seeks an audience."

Jeremiah sighed patiently, "Send her to one of the priests for a confession or to hear her complaints. I don't have time to deal with every single good-meaning citizen with fears. That is why the Archangel invented delegation."

"Of course, sir, but. . . ."

"Yes?" Jeremiah prodded, annoyed.

"She said that you would want to speak with her, sir. She said her name is Kaelynn Grey."

All hint of annoyance and boredom fled the High Inquisitor's face instantly, his eyes suddenly lighting with an unusual fire. "Kaelynn Grey? You are certain? Long brunette hair, eyes like an emerald?"

"Aye, that was her."

"Praise the Archangel this day, young man, for she has answered one of my often sought requests!" Without another word of explanation, Jeremiah rushed towards the front gate. What did it matter if it was unbecoming of a man of his station to run? He had been waiting for this day for almost ten years. Since the moment he'd first laid eyes upon the girl, he'd known. There was something different about her. Now she was coming to him.

Outside the front gate, looking exceptionally nervous, was the young woman called Kaelynn Grey. She was shifting nervously on her feet, wearing a forest green dress that remained long and modest. She looked almost the same as she had a year previously, the last time she had been standing outside of the Silbern chapel waiting for his arrival. Of course, on that day, she had lost her brother to a vampire attack. This day she was here for another reason entirely. Or so Jeremiah prayed.

He could tell the moment she caught sight of him, as she stiffened considerably, straightening her back and visibly steeling her resolve. If nothing else, he did certainly admire her courage.

"Your arrival this day is a great answer of prayer to me and to many of my Inquisitors," he told her quietly, keeping any and all hint of excitement from his voice.

"Somehow I doubt that you're going to be as thrilled after what I have to say," Kaelynn, always rebellious, responded in a surprisingly steady voice.

"You have come to confess, have you not? There is no other reason for one of your kind to be in a place such as this."

"Don't forget, _Jeremiah_ , you and your _Inquisitors_ cleared me of all wrong doing." She practically spat the words, her voice filled with derision, before she composed herself. "Regardless, you have no right to ban me from these grounds, and any confessions I may or may not give here are between myself and the Archangel."

"You have no right to even think her name," Jeremiah growled softly before pulling himself under control. "Why are you here, Kaelynn? Surely you have not returned and asked for my presence only to taunt me concerning your continued freedom."

"No." She took a deep breath. "I'm here to bargain."

The High Inquisitor was intrigued. Slightly amused as well, but mostly intrigued. "Do tell."

"The young woman you have recently taken from Wollebank under suspicion of being under the vampire curse or being a demonfriend, I want you to free her."

"I cannot do that."

"Yes, you can. Surely you, in all your infinite wisdom, have already determined that she is no demonfriend?"

"Yes, this is clear. But she has been cursed."

"No. Markov didn't touch her. I can vouch for that."

Jeremiah's eyes narrowed, "You admit to being present?"

She swallowed. "Yes."

"You admit to being in coalition with the Vampire Lord known as Sorin Markov?"

"No. Not until Abigail is freed. She is a loyal follower of the Church of Avacyn, she is no demonfriend, and she has not been touched. You know all of this; there isn't a mark on her. You let her go, which is of no harm to you, and I will confess to everything. I will admit to everything you have ever accused me of being."

Jeremiah openly gaped for a moment before snapping his mouth shut. "Why should I believe you?"

The woman actually looked like she might cry. "Because I have no other recourse. I have lost my brother already; I will not loose her too. Just let her go, and I will lie for you. I will confirm to all your superiors that you were actually right about me. I will admit to-" she choked on the words for a moment before managing to grind them out of her lips, "-I will admit to killing my brother. I will swear before the Council that I am a demonfriend. I will tell them all about my dealings with the Vampire Lord of the Markov House. Just let Abby go."

Jeremiah regarded her evenly for a long moment. "Come inside, and we will speak of this further."

She recoiled, "Not until I have your word."

"I cannot give it until your confession is made. Should you be able to confirm that you are not under any enchantment and swear to your location in the Markov House at the time of the girl's abduction, she will be exonerated."

"Swear it."

Jeremiah smiled, "I swear. Now come inside and confess your sins to the light."

_**0-0-0-0-0** _

The plans were coming along fairly slowly, but at least progress was being made. Vale and some of his other comrades were working on discovering a back way into the chapel in order to carefully extract the girl. Sorin and the other more powerful spellcasters were weaving enchantments and absorbing mana from the land in preparation for the coming battle. Soon Sorin would have to go outside and call to the vampires in order to gather them into something resembling a fighting force. This was going to be a bloodbath, but so long as they managed to get the girl out, they were acceptable losses.

The problem was no longer getting Kaelynn out of the chapel. The issue was what he was going to do after he had her. She'd been here once before, but now that he knew she had been with the Inquisition, it changed quite a few things. Under normal circumstances he would just string her up and torture her until he got what he wanted, but he didn't know the exact specifics of how the relic worked. He didn't even know if she knew she carried it in her being, as the book had said that they had "unknowingly" been vessels for its power.

As a member of the Inquisition, she had probably been trained to withstand torture, and there was little doubt in his mind that she was more difficult to break than she had seemed. Then again, he wasn't sure he really knew anything about her. Despite the many days spent in her company, she had been a Church spy, and no doubt every action had been calculated. She had been a wonderful actress, but that was all it had been. He had to stop thinking of her as the same girl; this wasn't the innocent, broken, pure-hearted optimist. She was an agent of the Church.

Done with these thoughts, Sorin abruptly stood, causing some of the others who were gathering mana to look up at him curiously. He didn't answer their unspoken questions, instead passing over to Vale, "Have you found a way in?"

The general blinked at him, "Maybe, but they probably know about it. It will be guarded. There's another option, but we don't know if it still exists; these plans are ancient."

Sorin restrained a sound of frustration. He knew that these things took time. "I'm going to head out and start calling the forces."

Vale arched an eyebrow, "Already?"

"We're going tonight, regardless of what you do or do not find." Without giving him a chance to respond, he left the manor, not particularly wanting to investigate the reasons for his short temper.

Taking a deep breath, he prepared to begin summoning the creatures of the darkness to himself, but something gave him pause. There were already creatures coming- a pack of vampires and two minor demons. Surely they weren't stupid enough to try and attack him? The last time any of the other Vampire Houses had tried that, he had completely decimated their armies. It hadn't even been hard.

That theory quickly fled as the next thing that hit him was the strong stench of blood. They were hunting, and judging by the pure amount of blood-loss from which their victim must have been suffering, they were just toying with the human. After all, they had no where to run.

Something slammed into the closed gates that led into the courtyard of the Markov property, rattling them with a fairly loud sound. The blood continued to waft up to Sorin, reminding the Vampire Lord that it had been too long since he'd eaten. Still, he didn't really feel like getting into a fight with a couple of demons over some random human; he was perfectly capable of finding his own food. He prepared to head back inside for a few moments and let them finish the dying victim, when a familiar voice reached his ears.

"Please, help me."

Sorin froze with his back to the fence, having a hard time believing what he'd just heard. The words hadn't been shouted, but they might as well have been for the amount of force with which they hit the Vampire Lord. That was Kaelynn's voice! With the same whispered desperation with which she'd spoken while she'd been trapped in a nightmare. Why was she asking for his help? She had betrayed him; he had sent her away; and how did she even know he was outside?

Somehow, the answers didn't matter; not now.

Sorin rushed over to the gates, pulling them open with his mana before he even reached them. The vampire pack was hovering along the edges of the hill, some distance away, but the two demons, one flying the other one on all fours, both looked up at him startled. "Mine," he growled, leaving no room for debate.

Neither demon had enough power to challenge him and they knew it. Grumbling, they both retreated, and while the coven wasn't quick to follow, a few waves of purifying white mana spreading out over the area was enough to drive them back out of sight.

Kaelynn was beyond injured; it looked like she had been methodically tortured, maybe for hours. She appeared to be slipping in an out of consciousness, but before she completely faded to the darkness her eyes locked on his own, "Sorry," she whispered softly. "No where else. . . ."

Sorin had a hard time reconciling the words she had just spoken with any sort of logic and immediately wrote it off as something she'd only said because she was nearly unconscious and dizzy with blood-loss. She had not just implied that he was her only friend.

Muttering something about idiotic humans that lacked any force, he moved her inside the manor, avoiding the study where Vale and the others were, and lying her down in the bed he had given to her some time ago. He gently brushed her hair back from her face and went to work on healing her wounds, hissing in surprise as he brushed against her bare skin and found that she had been doused in holy water. Despite that as well as the fact that she had been tortured by blessed blades, Sorin managed to heal all of the life-threatening wounds, though she would still be in a fair amount of pain when she woke.

It didn't make sense. Why would she have been tortured with instruments of the Church? Surely they wouldn't have condemned one of their own agents as a demonfriend? And why would she have run to him, of all places, after the last time they had met? Wouldn't she have assumed that he had killed her friend? None of it made any sense.

Deciding that answers would have to wait until she awoke, he went to relate some of the recent events to Vale and the others. They weren't particularly happy with all that preparation having gone to waste, but they understood that he had gotten what he'd wanted another way. They all retired to the eastern wing, with Vale being the last to go, hesitating before leaving the study.

"Sorin?"

"Aye?"

"This girl. . . . Just, watch yourself."

Sorin arched an eyebrow, uncertain from where the warning was coming.

"I know I'm probably taking my life in my hands for saying this, but you have a soft spot for this girl. And that could get you killed."

For a moment, Sorin's eyes blazed with anger at being spoken to like that, but it quickly faded. As much as it galled him to admit it, Vale was right. "I know. I'll be careful."

Vale grinned, "See you around, Lord Markov."

Sorin rolled his eyes at the general before he vanished.

The next few hours were spent scouring through the tome again, looking for any whispers of how the Purest Soul was used or could be extracted from the body of its vessel, but there was nothing. He already knew there was nothing, but he was mostly doing it again to avoid fixating on the conundrum that was Kaelynn Grey.

He was very surprised when he heard the soft padding of her bare feet on the stone floor only a few hours after he'd rescued her. She should have slept for longer. Unless the relic within her accelerated healing?

She paused in the doorway to the dining area where he stood, meeting his eyes with her sunken gaze. She looked like she never had while being in his presence- defeated. Yet there was a strange determination in her bloodshot eyes. "The Church has Abigail. They're going to kill her." She paused, fighting back tears again before literally falling to her knees. "Please help me save her. I know I don't have anything you want anymore, but. . . please. . . . I will do anything."

Sorin blinked at her in complete shock before realizing that this was an opportunity he just couldn't pass up. If she were offering herself willingly, that had to increase the chances of being able to get the Purest Soul from her. He moved slowly over to her side and looked down at her, "You realize that if you do this, the Church will hunt you for the rest of your days. You will be forever branded as a demonfriend. There will be no turning back." He paused, "You will never leave this mansion again." Regardless of whether or not the Church ever forgave her, this was simply fact. It was his price.

Kaelynn looked confused at his reasoning behind the demand, but she nodded, "I know." She swallowed and rose slowly, meeting his golden portals with her bright emerald ones. "And I accept." A faint, incredibly sad smile suddenly graced her lips as her eyes fell to the floor of the manor, and her voice was just a barely audible whisper as she echoed his own words, "No turning back."


	7. The Preservation of One's Self

Kaelynn sat on the floor in the kitchen of Markov Manor, the skirt of her washed white dress spread out around her to cover her legs and feet. She was staring blankly at her lap and the small rivulets of blood that were trailing down her arm from the small cut on the inside of her hand. The pain seemed distant and very far away, such a little spike of discomfort when her entire body was aching from the torture she had endured at the hands of the Inquisition. The red liquid of her life slowly crept down her arm because of the angle at which she was holding her hand, forming small streams and a single larger river as it leaked from the wound. She knew that she ought to stop the bleeding, wash and wrap the wound, but there was nothing in her that wished to move from that position.

The blood continued it's inexorable path, pulled by gravity down her arm until it began to reach and pool at the inside of her elbow, which was bent slightly. The red started to move sideways from there, wrapping along the other side of her arm and then dripping down to her lap. She watched it with an impassive expression, each drop spattering to make a design on her spotless white dress. She remembered when Kaleb had given it to her. They had had little money or resources, but when the Church had accepted her into its ranks, her brother had said that such a thing was befitting of a celebration. The dress had been his gift to her, pure white, like Avacyn's hair.

The fabric easily absorbed the crimson fluid, and her life force spread across the colorless background to make patterns like paint on a canvass. That was all in the background to Kaelynn's own eyes, however, for her gaze remained glued to the gash on her hand itself. Such a simple little wound caused by a such a small mistake, yet if she did nothing, she could very well loose enough blood to cause irreparable damage. It would be so easy to just sit here and watch; watch as her life seeped away slowly into the gown bestowed upon her by the dead.

"Kaelynn! What happened?"

It was Sorin, her captor, her savior. There were really no words for the complex well-spring of emotions that came to mind at the sound of his melodic voice. She wondered if he would save her, or simply help the loss of blood along. She had to admit, it would be easier if it went a bit faster.

He knelt next to her, and his mouth was moving, but it seemed that her ears had quiet inconveniently stopped working, as she couldn't hear a word of what he said. Her vision was too blurred, by tears or dizziness she wasn't certain, to decipher the movements of his lips as well, so she simply frowned at him, uncertain how or even if she ought to respond.

His ashen skinned hand reached for her own, the crimson a slightly duller contrast with the grayish tone than it was to her own pale skin or the white of the dress. Still, the new color added to the mix did give her brief pause, and she watched it intently as the painting took new form.

The gray hands were moving too fast for her to truly appreciate the new addition to the mural, however, as they took hold of the crimson fountain and began to bind it with strip of white, stopping the spring from gushing forth.

Kaelynn frowned even more deeply down at her bound hand. Without the fountain, the rivers and streams would stop, and then the painting would end. It would lose its beauty, its mystery. She didn't want it to end. Not yet.

The sudden realization hit her like a punch to her gut, practically knocking the wind out of her. She wasn't ready for it to end. Her eyes drifted shut against the onslaught of tears that suddenly began to come and she felt the entire world shift and sway under her.

Someone caught her as she fell, and her eyes opened in mild surprise, having forgotten already that she wasn't alone, only to find that it wasn't the semi-familiar golden portals of Sorin Markov staring down at her. No, these were eyes that she knew better than her own, that she could have drawn in her sleep. These were the bright sapphire eyes of her brother.

He was smiling down at her, his brown hair slightly damp from the rain; it had been raining when he'd died. His eyes were sparkling with mischief and joy, like the way that they always were in all of her best memories of them. His skin was far darker than hers, tanned from time in the outdoors and getting too close to the furnace in the blacksmith's shop where he had apprenticed as a teenager. He was holding her close to his muscular chest, the warmth of him surrounding her, and all that she could think was that she was home. She was home and Kaleb was here, and no one would ever hurt her again.

"Hey, ace," he said in that deep voice of his, the one she had always taken for granted. She used to tease him mercilessly about his lack of singing talent as he would often be humming one of Avacyn's Hymns randomly throughout the day. How she missed his off-tune and incorrect lyrics after he was gone!

"Kaleb?" she whispered, barely recognizing the soft, weak voice as her own. "Is it really you?"

"Of course it's me. Unless you've suddenly got yourself a boyfriend without telling me."

The soft giggle that bubbled up in her chest turned into a hiccup as it left her throat, the sound of amusement mingling with her tears of sorrow. "But you died," she whispered the truth as she let her eyes slide shut, afraid to voice it that perhaps it might not be true, afraid to look in fear that he might vanish before her eyes.

There was no answer for several long moments, but the strong arms holding her didn't change or falter.

Eventually, she peeked out from beneath her eyelids like a child might do, slowly raising her gaze to meet her deceased brother's eyes.

His eyes were closed, however, and she frowned, uncertain as to the cause until she felt something warm and sticky spreading across her stomach and breast through her dress where she was held to his chest. She looked down, a feeling of dread settling in her gut, and let loose a strangled sob at the sight of blood stemming from a sword wound through his rib cage.

Kaleb dropped her as he fell forward, landing face first on the tiled floor of the kitchen, blood seeping out from his body.

Kaelynn's breath started coming in heaving gasps, but the scream that was building never came as a familiar calloused hand clamped down on her mouth from behind.

"You killed him," Jared hissed in her ear, releasing her briefly only in order to throw her to the ground next to her brother's body as he drew a bloodied blade.

She stared at it, and him, uncomprehendingly, no words coming to her defense or his condemnation.

He advanced on her slowly, his sword dripping blood down to the white tiled floor in a steady rhythm. She lost herself in the repeated drip, drip, drip, letting her mind fade away.

Jared moved up behind her and said something, but she just continued to stare at the puddle of blood on the floor.

Something sharp pierced her back and she whimpered and sobbed as he began to whisper to her again. This time, though the voice wasn't his.

"Kaelynn, wake up!"

Kaelynn bolted upright, breathing heavily as she tried for a several seconds to pin down exactly where she was. It didn't take her too long to identify the place as her bedroom in Markov Manor. Placing aside the oddity of that thought for a moment, she looked up to find Sorin hovering over her, looking more than a bit unhappy. She glanced at her left hand, the one that had been injured in her dream, to confirm that none of it had been real only to find that it was indeed bandaged. Well, that probably explained why the Vampire Lord was pissed off then.

She winced as she shifted, her partially healed body protesting at being forced to move around and do normal things so soon after the whole ordeal. "Good morning?" she tried timidly, not really sure what she was supposed to say in this situation.

Sorin backed away slightly from her bed, which did wonders for her nerves. It was all good and fine to sleep in his mansion, but waking to find him leaning over her like that was going a bit far. "It's afternoon, actually," he corrected, his voice entirely flat and devoid of emotion, which did absolutely nothing to help her to know how to deal with this mess.

"Okay," she agreed amicably. "Good afternoon."

He stared at her blankly for a few moments before narrowing his eyes, a bit of irritation leaking through into his voice. "You want to tell me what happened this morning?"

Something about the whole situation reminded Kaelynn of a parent interrogating a child who'd broken a mirror or something, and the similarities almost had her breaking down in a severely uncalled for fit of giggles. If he didn't already think her mad, he certainly would after that, so she did her best to compose herself, uncertain if a smile broke through her mask or not. She very nearly responded with "not particularly", but she figured she probably owed him some sort of explanation for saving her life. For the third time. "I cut my hand." Not to say, of course, that she was just going to start confessing all of her darkest secrets to the man. Vampire. Whatever.

He growled, a very small hint of the real depth of his suddenly clear anger showing through, "And after cutting your hand, would you like to tell me what in the name of Avacyn possessed you to _sit down on the ground_ and do _absolutely nothing_ about it?"

She recoiled slightly, swallowing hard. Again, it was all and good and fine to live with Sorin, but at times like this it was a stark reminder that he was a Vampire Lord and that it really probably wasn't a good idea to make him angry with her. At all. Then again, she'd already proven numerous times that she had little to no instincts for self-preservation, so this was really just par for the course.

Kaelynn took a deep breath, her eyes dropping to the ground. "I got. . . distracted."

She could basically feel his skepticism permeating the air. "You got distracted," he repeated dully.

"Yeah."

"From the fact that you were bleeding out."

She swallowed, "Uh. . . yeah?"

He heaved a sigh in frustration, "I thought you liked that girl."

Kaelynn frowned at the sudden change in subject, and it took her a couple seconds to figure out about whom he was speaking. "Abigail? I do. She's like a sister to me."

"Well, clearly you really don't care all that much about saving her, since you were willing to just sit there on your ass and let yourself die." His voice had returned to the register that could accurately be defined as growling as he said this.

Kaelynn winced. "I. . . . I wasn't thinking," she muttered softly, knowing it was a poor excuse, but it was still the only one she had.

Sorin scoffed slightly, but he didn't press any further right that moment. "We have a plan to break into the Silbern Chapel."

She frowned, "We?"

"Yes, we. As powerful as I am, it would still be a bit of a stretch to take on the entire Inquisition base on my own." He sounded faintly bemused.

She decided to ignore that for the time being. "That was fast."

He shrugged, "Yes, well, it's not the first time I've considered launching an assault. Regardless, we should be able to implement the plan tonight, assuming the information on where the girl's being held is correct."

Kaelynn answered the unspoken question. "It's accurate. I saw her myself," she refrained from saying any more than that. The last thing she wanted at the moment was to discuss her time at the chapel.

He looked like he wanted to inquire further, but he didn't for which she was grateful. "Then there shouldn't be a problem."

She nodded slowly, "I'll get some rest then; I don't want to slow you down."

Sorin just blinked, "I don't see how it would matter; you're not coming with us."

Kaelynn sighed. This was an arguement she was prepared to have. "Yes, I am." She held up a hand briefly to forstall his inevitable dispute. "Listen, she is my friend, my sister, and I am not leaving her fate to the hands of a bunch of vampires. Period. I am coming with you."

"Or what?" He sounded more curious than challenging, but there was an edge of steel in his voice.

"Or you'll come back and I'll be dead," Kaelynn said flatly. Since by this point he obviously knew that she was more than capable of committing suicide, she figured she might as well use it. "You want me around for some reason, though I'm not entirely certain why since you've obvious deciphered the tome. If you don't take me with you to get Abigail, I will find a way to kill myself. Trust me. No matter what you do to prevent it; I can be very innovative."

Sorin held her gaze for several long moments. "It will be very dangerous and the others won't like it."

"I know, and they'll live," she responded evenly before suddenly pausing. "Or maybe they won't, since it's more than a little likely that they're already undead."

Sorin scoffed slightly, but this time the action was accompanied by a slight smile. "Very well. I'll wake you when we're ready to leave."

"You better." She paused as he turned to leave, "Oh, Sorin?"

He paused in front of the door, "Yes?"

"Do you think I could get my Blessed Blade back?" She winced as she made the request, perfectly aware of exactly what she had done to loose it in the first place.

Fortunately, he just smiled, "I think that might be possible, yes."

"Thanks." She stopped him yet again, "Sorin?"

He sighed slightly, "Yes, _seri_?"

Kaelynn suddenly paused, considering forgoing what she had been going to say in order to question the meaning of his name for her of unknown origins.

"Kaelynn?" he asked again when she took too long to decide.

She smiled slightly in a self-depreciating way before resolving to stick with her former reason for stopping him. "Thank you." Her smile turned sweet as she held up her bandaged hand as an explanation.

Sorin looked at her oddly, with a gaze that she couldn't quite decipher. "You're welcome."

**_0-0-0-0-0_ **

Sorin was in the sitting room, examining the maps of the Silbern Chapel in preparation for the upcoming assault as well as to keep his mind off of a certain infuriating Church official. Only, if she were an Inquisitor as Abigail had said, why had the Church tortured as a demonfriend? Particularly if they were the ones who had sent her to infiltrate his manor in the first place. None of it added up, and Sorin was tired of trying to make sense of something that simply would not conform to any type of known logic. He wasn't unraveling this mystery until he could convince Kaelynn to tell him what had happened at the chapel.

Sighing in frustration, Sorin forcibly jerked his mind back to concentrating on the maps and the plan to be executed. So intently did he persuade himself to concentrate on the papers before him that he missed the tell-tale soft, padding footsteps of his human guest's pale, small bare feet on the cold stone of the mansion until he could hear her heartbeat from where she stood in the doorway to his study, shifting nervously.

Sorin looked up in surprise, not expecting to find her awake so soon after the ordeal that she had had the day previously. "The assault isn't for another few hours."

Kaelynn nodded, "I know." She paused briefly, and then gave a slight shrug, "I couldn't sleep."

Once again, Sorin's curiosity was piqued, and since it wasn't very well like she could run out on him at the moment, he decided that he was done trying to be careful with her because of her value. "Nightmares again?"

She looked mildly surprised that he was addressing the issue, but she didn't exactly dodge the question. "Yes."

"What about?" He left off even pretending interest in the charts before him and placed his full attention on her, pinning her in place with his golden gaze.

"I-" she cut off, moving one leg back as though she would run, but unable to look away from him. "Many things," she finally whispered, a hint of panic in her voice. She really did not want to address this.

Well, that was just unfortunate, because he was not going to spend another moment with this woman asking himself about her allegiances. He was going to get the truth, one way or another. "Your brother?" He decided to run with the simplest route, going from something that he knew to be troubling in order to work his way up to the questions he wanted answered.

"Yes." It was another barely audible whisper, and she inched back half a step, her eyes still locked on his own.

"How did he die?"

"A vampire attack." Tears were pooling in her eyes now, her breath coming in quickened gasps. She was so incredibly breakable and fragile at the moment, and a part of him suddenly wanted to drop the subject and let her go, but he ignored that voice in his head. He would get his answers, regardless of any misplaced affection he had towards the girl.

"Did he work for the Church?" He allowed a hint of anger to leak into his voice with the question, for he had a great deal of it pent up when it came to her. He was angry at himself for being deceived by her, furious with her for both lying to him and stabbing him in the shoulder, and even incredibly pissed off at her for apparently being willing to let herself die earlier that morning.

She flinched visibly at the question, and he was pretty sure that her reaction had little to do with his own wrath. She didn't want to think about the Church. Interesting. "Yes."

When she refused to expound on the answer, he resisted the urge to roll his eyes so as not to break the spell holding her in place. "In what capacity?"

"He was an Inquisitor."

"Did you work for the Church?" And now he was getting somewhere. If he had really, really tried, he probably could have kept the sheer fury out of his voice at the question. He didn't try.

This time, he was sure that her wince was a reaction to his tone. "Yes."

"Also as an Inquisitor?"

Suddenly confusion replaced some of the terror in her widening eyes. "What? No. I never worked for the Inquisition."

"Funny, Abigail told a different story." He tried not to inquire into when, exactly, he had started referring to the blonde food source by her given name.

Kaelynn scoffed slightly, but it was tinged with both bitterness and a hint of hysteria. "Of course she did. I lied to her." The admission had started out strong, but by the time the words left her lips her voice had returned to its soft whisper. It took Sorin a moment to realize that her issue was that she felt guilty for lying to her friend, simply because it was quite a foreign feeling for pretty much everyone. Lying was something even most humans did without remorse, but Kaelynn was quiet certainly not most humans. As if he needed another reminder of that fact.

"Why?"

"Because I didn't want to shatter her faith in the Church!" Kaelynn actually shouted this, finally loosing her grip on herself. The tears were falling down her face freely now, her breath hitching every few seconds with barely suppressed sobs.

Sorin frowned. This was not what he had expected. "Explain." The demand wasn't harsh; he toned his voice to be gentle and coaxing, hoping that now that her defensive walls had been mostly broken, it would be easier to get the whole story from her without resorting to violence.

Kaelynn was completely breaking down at this point, but she managed to speak between hiccuping sobs. "The vampires attacked Kaleb and I while we were walking in the forest. They killed him, the highly trained Inquisition agent, but somehow I survived. I never should have survived! When the Church found me, they assumed that the only way I could have survived was-" she cut off here, taking several deep breaths before spitting the words out in a rush, "-was if I killed my own brother, or betrayed him to the vampires. They called me a demonfriend and they had a High Inquisitor interrogate and torture me for _months_. They wanted me to just admit to killing him."

Everything started falling into place, and Sorin felt all of his anger towards Kaelynn leach away like water down a drain. "But you wouldn't." It wasn't a question; it was a statement of fact. The Church that she had served had tortured her for months because they wanted someone to blame. The more supposed demonfriends they caught the more the people leaned upon the Church. The more recruits they got, the more funds they took in, and the more the people just generally flocked to the chapels and adored them. They were corrupt, the whole lot of them. They didn't deserve to bare the Archangel's name.

She shook her head, her tear-blurred eyes finally slipping down to the ground as her whole body followed suit, sliding down the door frame so that she was sitting on the ground, not unlike the way he had found her in the kitchen, just staring at her injured hand as the blood stained her dress. "No. I didn't kill him. Eventually they had to let me go. There was no reason to hold me. I told everyone that I'd been helping the Inquisition following Kaleb's death."

It all made perfect sense now. He'd been right about her to an extent; she had been broken, but never completely. She had never admitted to killing her brother. Well, almost all of it made sense. "What happened after you ran from here?"

"I went back to town." Her voice was dull, lifeless, and she was simply staring at the floor as she recounted the tale without emotion. Clearly, this was taking its toll on her. She really needed to sleep again before they went for Abigail that night. "Isaac and Marion, Abigail's parents, were in the town square, completely panicked, and the town was in a frenzy. I thought I was going to have to tell them that Abigail was dead, but when I came into town they ran to me and told me that Abigail had come home confused that night and the Church had taken her way on suspicion of being a demonfriend." She paused briefly. "I couldn't believe it. She was alive, but they were going to do to her what they'd done to me. I couldn't let them. I went to try and make a deal with one of the High Inquisitors, but I was betrayed. They tortured me for a while instead and then just threw me out for the demons."

One question left. "Why did you run here?" His voice was soft, and there wasn't a hint of demand in the query. This was just a question, one she could answer or not as she wished.

Kaelynn hesitated, and for a moment Sorin thought that she was going to take the chance to simply leave. But she didn't. "Because I had no where else to go." Kaelynn spoke quietly but firmly. Honestly. "I knew that you hadn't killed Abigail, which meant that maybe I hadn't been that wrong about you in the beginning. I couldn't lead the demons to Wollebank. I wouldn't be safe at home. I had no where else to go," she repeated simply, leaving the damning statement just hanging in the air.

Sorin suddenly realized that she had been condemned to this friendless life on the run long before she had decided to go after Abigail. No wonder she hadn't even hesitated. No wonder as well that she didn't fear death; she had nothing for which to live.

For several moments, they just remained in their respective positions in silence, Sorin having little that he could say in response to such revelations.

Eventually, Kaelynn's brow furrowed and she looked up, questions of her own written all over her face. "Alright, you got your answers. My turn. Why did you save my life the day we first met in the forest?" When Sorin didn't answer, she simply moved to the next inquiry. "Why did you wake me from my nightmare the second night in the house? Why didn't you kill Abigail? Why did you save me again when I ran to you for help after stabbing you in the shoulder? Why have you agreed to help me now?" With each question, her voice only grew stronger and she slowly pulled herself back up to her feet, gazing at him openly like all the answers could be found written somewhere on his face.

As the pile of overwhelming questions that he had been asking himself since he had met her continued to grow higher, Sorin found that he had no answers, no clever lie or misdirection to make her forget all about the whole thing. And so, frustrated with himself, feeling oddly sorry for her, and overall just fed up with lies and hypocrisy, particularly those of the Church, Sorin spoke what may have been the truest words he said in over a thousand years. "I don't know."

The profound statement wasn't shouted in defensive, it was spoken softly, almost in defeat, and now it was his eyes on the ground even while he felt her emerald gaze burning a hole in his face.

Several moments later, Kaelynn sighed. "Well, I guess that's fair."

He looked up at her in mild surprise, arching an eyebrow in curiosity, but she just smiled.

It was a dim, watery smile, hardly befitting of the highly cheerful and optimistic person he knew her to be, but it was a true, real smile nevertheless. "No, you don't get any more answers or explanations tonight." Her smile grew just a hint wider and her eyes danced slightly as he returned the friendly gesture. Then she yawned. "I'm going back to bed. Wake me?"

Sorin nodded, even though she was already departing, watching her slim figure until she was out of sight.

Sighing deeply, he closed his eyes and took several deep, cleansing breaths. Unfortunately, when he opened his eyes, he still had no answers to any of Kaelynn's questions. Somehow, despite all the answers given, he felt as though nothing had been accomplished. Maybe because the real mystery wasn't actually Kaelynn after all. Perchance the real mystery was just the question of why he hadn't watched the foolish girl with no sense of self-preservation just die in the woods that day as he was passing through one of the forests of Innistrad. Maybe it always had been.


	8. This is Not the Plan

High Inquisitor Jeremiah walked out of the Judgement Hall of the Bishops of Silbern where he had just finished unsuccessfully defending a position that wasn't his own and then accepting the punishment for the same.

Though he knew that those from the Holy Order were sent from Avacyn, some of them often seemed like politicians who had simply played the system to get into a place of power. He was not naive enough to believe that such things did not happen; there were more than few heretics in positions within the Church, for only the great Archangel herself was beyond reproach.

The so-called Templar of the Order of Avacyn had been in Silbern for the past five years to act as an overseer to the Inquisitors and Bishops there. He had the official authority to do whatever he pleased and the gall to order around every single person in the chantry. He irked Jeremiah to no end, and now not only had he ordered the High Inquisitor to commit a crime, but he had also had him lie about before the Council.

As Jeremiah fumed over the blatant disrespect for both his authority and the authority of the Silbern Council, the object of his extreme annoyance walked up alongside him in the hall, "How did things go?"

"As expected," Jeremiah responded shortly. "I told them the decision to free the girl was mine and mine alone. Your name wasn't mentioned."

The Templar gave a shark-like smile, "Excellent. I am truly sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused you, but I can't have my name connected to things like this; the Bishops might take too much of an interest."

Lies, of course, all lies. The man did not deserve to bear the holy symbol of the Archangel on the medallion that hung about his neck. "If I may ask, Lord Templar, of what interest is Kaelynn Grey to you?"

The red-haired man shrugged his muscular shoulders, "She is of an interest to the High Council; that is all that matters."

"Hm. I must admit, I am surprised that with your station and ability the High Council hasn't yet recalled you to their side. Surely they are wanting without you?" Jeremiah asked pointedly, hoping to at least rattle the man.

Nevertheless, the tall Templar only smiled, "Oh, I'm sure they do, but I requested to stay here. I believe that the Archangel has unfinished work for me."

"Work involving Ms. Grey?"

"Some of it, yes."

"So you believe her to be a demonfriend? If so, why free her?" Jeremiah demanded, tired of these games.

"Do not presume to question me or the Archangel, Inquisitor," the Templar warned, but then he smiled that unnerving smile again; the smile of a maniac. "But Kaelynn will return here, sooner or later. I'm not done with her yet."

Jeremiah frowned openly. Kaelynn was dead; he had released her into the woods bleeding profusely. Even if she had escaped the demons, she would have bled out, and even if, by some black magic, she had survived, she would never be returning to the Church. The man was insane. "Kaelynn is dead, Lord Templar."

For a very brief moment, the crystalline blue eyes of the Templar shone with a burst of unparalleled and frankly frightening anger. It faded down to a deadly chill that left Jeremiah with the sudden impression that he may have needed to prepare to fight for his life in but a moment's time. "No, High Inquisitor, she is not," he spoke with such solid conviction that Jeremiah wouldn't dare argue. "And she will be coming back, mark my words on that. She will return, and not alone." He smiled suddenly, "I only hope that she has more friends than those fools at Wollebank so that there might actually be something of a challenge."

Jeremiah stood still as the manic Templar continued walking down the hall, leaving him standing alone staring after him. That man was not a servant of the Archangel in any way, shape, or form. He was a psychopath obsessed with someone who was now dead, and following him would lead to nothing good.

Jeremiah dropped to his knees right in the middle of the hallway, "I thank you, blessed Archangel, for revealing to me the truth of this heretic. I praise you for your divine knowledge of all things and your sovereignty in bringing me to the truth that you would have all of your servants follow. I ask now that you would guide me on this course upon which you have set me, that you would bring me to the light and that I would be able to expose this heretic as such that he is. I thank you once again now for blessing me with the wisdom and the faith to be greater than that which he is. Through your blessing, I offer thee this prayer, blessed Avacyn, Angel Divine."

High Inquisitor Jeremiah stood and rushed to the dungeons where the younger girl was still being held. The Templar had ordered her to be kept as she currently was, but he hadn't seemed interested in her in the slightest.

Abigail hung limply from the chains; her face was sunken, and there were deep black circles under her eyes. She was defeated, tired, and alone.

"Wake up girl. You need to go."

Abi slowly stirred, her eyes opened, but she gazed about blankly, "Who's there?"

Jeremiah froze; not wanting to jump to conclusions, he moved directly in front of her, putting himself straight in her line of sight, "Can't you see me?"

The young girl didn't seem to have any tears left in her; she just gave a hiccupped sob before answering in a defeated whisper. "I can't see anything."

He had blinded her. The sick bastard had blinded her, like she was a demonfriend rather than a victim of the darkness.

Jeremiah sighed heavily and then drew the keys from his robe and unlocked her chains.

She fell to the floor in an unstable heap, "Who are you? Why are you helping me?" She paused, a thought seeming to occur to her that she voiced even quieter than the rest, "Are you going to kill me?"

"Not unless I have to," Jeremiah responded shortly. "Now stand; we must move."

Before either of them could take a step outside of the room, bells started ringing all around the chapel.

"Intruders! It's a vampire attack!"

0-0-0-0-0

Kaelynn had been in battles before, but this wasn't a battle; this was a war. No, as she glanced at Sorin next to her she corrected that thought. Not a war either- Sorin had seen wars. Still, it was far more massive than anything she had ever experienced. Herself, Sorin, another vampire she had been introduced to as Vale, and two others who hadn't been named were standing on a hill across from the one on which Silbern Tower was built.

The vampire hordes that Sorin had summoned had moved stealthily and quickly across the land, reaching the chapel and tower all at once and beginning their attack, yet it was uncoordinated and relied on brute force rather than any form of strategy. The church's Inquisitors and Paladins were leaving the chapel now as the alarm bells rang, and though the undead had numbers, they were going to lose.

Fortunately, that was the plan.

Kaelynn didn't like it. She hadn't agreed with it either, but when it came to Abigail, she was compromised. Even though she knew it was wrong to sacrifice them like this, with no intention of helping them, she would have sacrificed more of her principles to save Abi. The fact that they were vampires should have made it easier; it didn't. Maybe in the end that was a good thing, or maybe it just made her a demonfriend like Jeremiah had said.

"You ready?" Sorin asked softly, interrupting her thoughts.

Kaelynn took a deep breath, the weight of the blessed blade once again strapped to her leg giving her some comfort, but also only further impressing the facts of her betrayal. "Yeah," she lied. "Let's go."

Sorin glanced behind him at the rest of their small group and then picked her up, racing off at high speeds to the back entry-way to the chapel.

The sounds of screams and the clash of metal filled the air as Kaelynn was carried around the skirmish and in much closer proximity than she had been on the hill. It was no longer possible to remain detached; people were dying- because of her. The scent of blood and ashes wafted up from the battlefield to meet them, and the very air felt like it was suffocating her as close as they were to the horrors of destruction.

A vampire lay on the ground, the head and the upper part of its torso cleaved in half. The stark red of blood lay against the brown, seeping into the dirt, forever staining the ground with the mark of death.

An Inquisitor screamed as a vampire bit into her neck, ripping out her throat and throwing the prone body to the ground only to be decapitated a second later by a passing Paladin. Swords clanged against bone armor, nails and teeth scraped against plate, filling the air with a horrid, ear-bursting screeching noise. Screams rang out once to be forever silenced; worse than that were the moans that just wouldn't end.

It was a nightmare. And Kaelynn was the cause.

They reached the back of the chapel and a female vampire and Vale snapped the necks of the two guards back there before they could even blink while Sorin put her down and shoved open the door with a very loud grinding sound. Sorin entered first, and Kaelynn was right behind him as they moved through the tunnel.

The sounds of fighting were muffled through the cement walls of the corridor as they moved through the tunnels built into the mountain under and behind the church. It was a passage that led to an escape route for those inside the chapel as well as connected to tunnels that led from the Silbern Tower. They were very loosely defended, as had been demonstrated, mainly because Markov was the only vampire house old enough to still have the records of them. All the rest had been destroyed.

They reached the end of the cavern without incident which led, fortuitously, to the back of the dungeons. The five of them moved in the direction of Abigail's cell as they had been informed by Kaelynn. Most everyone was involved in the battle outside, leaving the cells mainly deserted. There weren't any guards about and they reached the proper cell without incident.

Sorin snapped the lock, and Kaelynn pushed it open, slipping inside so that Abigail would calm before she brought in the five vampires. She prepared herself to see the worst, fearful beyond belief of what may have been done to her.

The cell was empty.

Kaelynn's eyes widened, her heart beating even faster than it had been. They'd moved her? But why? Kaelynn had been left to die, and no one else would come for her. Why wasn't she there?

The door creaked again as Sorin entered behind her, noting the empty room immediately, "You said you were sure she was here."

"I was. She was," Kaelynn insisted, panicking. "What if they killed her?"

Sorin shook his head, "Her body would still be here. They just moved her."

"But where?" Kaelynn whispered before turning back to him, "What now?"

Sorin opened his mouth to answer but before he could Vale's voice could be heard from outside, "Company!"

Both immediately left the room to find a squad of Inquisitors blocking their way back to the tunnel. The squad was led by none other than the High Inquisitor Jeremiah, who took one look at Kaelynn and stared.

While Sorin and the others prepared to fight, Kaelynn looked behind her and saw a figure wearing the armor of a Templar dragging a bound and gagged Abigail towards the front of the chapel.

Sorin noticed, "Kaelynn, don't-"

She turned and met his golden portals, "Come find me, yeah?" Then she ran off after her little sister, the sounds of battle echoing in the halls behind her.

0-0-0-0-0

Sorin cursed as he easily snapped the neck of one of the Inquisitors who had charged him. He could run after her, but the man at the front wore the robes of a High Inquisitor, and between him and his lackies, Sorin wasn't certain that those left could handle it on their own. Kaelynn was rash, but she wasn't an idiot.

Usually. He would just have to hope that she survived until he was finished here.

Corina was taking on a pair of Paladins on her own, but she wouldn't need help with that. Dorian had three Inquisitors on him, but before Sorin could even think about taking one of them out of the game tendrils of black mana had crept up behind one and cracked bones in his legs and chest. He went down screaming.

Vale was finishing up a Paladin and the High Inquisitor was still staying out of the fray, so Sorin took out another three of his soldiers without blinking, hoping to entice the human into battle.

Vale's Paladin went down and then the vampire general suddenly grunted in pain and fell to the ground, blood seeping out of his hand in a perfect circle and pooling there, even when gravity ought to have been pulling it to the granite floor. He stared in surprise, and then he fell to his knees as blood started coming from his other hand as well.

Sorin finished up the third and then was at Vale's side in an instant even as Corina stumbled, one of the Inquisitors getting a blow in where they shouldn't have as she began having the same symptoms. Dorian didn't falter, but he growled in pain as he decapitated one of the Inquisitors next to him.

Markov felt the spell try to affect him as well, felt the drain on his mana as his wards attempted to fend off the powerful black mana attack. A servant of Avacyn using black mana? Sorin growled and sent out of wave of his own power, obliterating the remainder of the High Inquisitor's troops before they could finish off his comrades even as they all fell too their knees. There was an even bigger circle of blood draining on their chests now.

Sorin faced the spellcaster, "A High Inquisitor of Avacyn using black magic? Isn't such a thing heresy?"

"The Archangel would have the demons destroyed in any way necessary," he responded levely. "Am I correct in assuming that you are Lord Markov?"

Sorin inclined his head slightly as Vale groaned and fell over completely, the final pooling of blood happening right in the center of his forehead. "Indeed; and you are the High Inquisitor of Silbern."

The human didn't return the gesture. "Yes, and it will be I who cleanses the stain of your existence from Innistrad's soil forever."

Sorin smirked, "I don't think that's going to work out very well for you."

"I have the power of the Archangel on my side!" The man growled, removing a long, curved blessed blade from a sheath at his waist.

Sorin arched an eyebrow, summoning his own greatsword with a flicker of mana. and gave the man a taunting smile, "I guarantee you that she likes me better."

The Inquisitor charged.

0-0-0-0-0

Running from the protection of Sorin and his friends probably wasn't the smartest thing that Kaelynn had ever done, but she couldn't just sit there and watch as Abi was dragged away towards the chaos of battle. A battle that Kaelynn had caused.

The Templar's back was to her, his head covered with a silver helmet holding Avacyn's symbol. He was tall, almost as tall as Sorin, and his gloved hand was fisted in Abigail's blonde hair, dragging her along as she let out muffled screams.

Kaelynn was still injured, and keeping up with them was going to prove to be impossible. So she called out, "Stop!" She didn't expect it to work. At the very most, she thought it might give him pause, at the very least, bring down more Inquisitors upon her location.

The last thing she expected was for the Templar to do just as she had demanded, throwing Abigail down unceremoniously to the floor as though she was the most uninteresting thing in the world. It wasn't until a gloved hand came up and removed the helmet that Kaelynn understood.

A handsome, finely sculpted jaw was the first thing that could be seen, as the helmet continued to be removed, a pair of cold blue eyes the color of ice were revealed, their gaze pinning Kaelynn in place. Finally, a flash of fiery red hair could be seen, a stark contrast to the coldness of his arctic gaze. His face was expressionless, completely devoid of all emotion as he remained exactly where he was. "Hello, Kaelynn."

The young cleric swallowed in fear, trying to force her body to respond, to do something, but she just stood there, unmoving, frozen like a bird that had been foolish enough to look into the eyes of a snake. Her breath came in shaking gasps, her mind refusing for the sake of her own sanity to acknowledge what was right in front of her face.

She didn't know how long she stood there frozen, but it was the sounds of swords clashing from down the hall in the direction of Sorin that finally jerked her into action. Sorin would come after her; she just had to stall. Straightening, she forced her own emerald eyes to meet his own icy gaze. "Hello, Jared." Her voice lacked any kind of strength, but it was considerably better than just standing there, doing nothing.

The barest hint of a smile passed over his features, but it did nothing to soften the intensity of his eyes. "I've missed you."

She let out a shaky breath and slowly drew in another. "I. . . . I've been busy."

Jared actually laughed, but it wasn't a pleasant sound. It was barren, hollow, without feeling. It was quiet, and lacking in any kind of sincerity. Smiles, laughter, pleasantries, those were all lies. His eyes spoke the truth, and they frightened her.

Kaelynn flinched away from the sound out of reflex, and when she opened her eyes again she recoiled with a gasp- he was right in front of her.

"Busy?" he repeated. "Enjoying the luxuries of Markov Manor?"

She swallowed hard, stumbling back a step away from him, "I. . . . I don't-"

"Stop!" All the lying smiles fell from his face, anger leaking through into his expressionless mask as he shouted, setting his eyes ablaze with blue fire. He moved towards her, each step of his countered with a step of her own backing her up again, but she knew he was cornering her. Her back hit the wall, and he approached quicker, slamming his fist down on the side of her head.

She whimpered and turned her head away from his gaze.

"Do. Not. Lie to me," he hissed down in her face, furious.

Kaelynn kept her eyes on the floor, unaware that she was crying until she felt the tears running down her face.

"Now," he continued in a more controlled, conversational tone, though the anger was still present, simmering beneath the surface, "tell me, Kaelynn, do you enjoy it?"

Confusion crossed her features, but she didn't dare look up or even speak.

"Is it somehow cathartic? Selling your soul and body to those who killed your brother? Who destroyed your life?" He leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Who ruined mine?"

She shuddered in pure fear from his proximity, her breath still coming in heaving gasps as she tried not to make a sound.

"Answer me," he growled, grabbing her chin and forcing her face up to look at his blazing, insane eyes.

"No," she whispered.

"No, you don't enjoy it?" he continued relentlessly before suddenly pausing. "Then why? Why, Kaelynn, why would you betray us like that?" He sounded so broken in that moment, but though the healer in her wanted to help him, she knew better now. If only she could have understood sooner.

"I haven't betrayed Kaleb," Kaelynn whispered, uncertain if she really believed that. "I needed to save her."

Jared's brow furrowed for a moment, like he didn't even remember Abigail's existence. Then his expression cleared and he pointed to where the blonde lay prone on the ground, "Her?"

Kaelynn nodded mutely.

He regarded her for a long moment before speaking flatly, no emotion in his voice at all, even his previously furious eyes dying down to nothing. "You betrayed me," he stated flatly, "and for that you must be taught a lesson. One you won't soon forget."

He drew a knife from his belt, and Kaelynn's eyes widened.

0-0-0-0-0

Sorin and the High Inquisitor disengaged, the latter breathing heavily while the former's eyes narrowed in mild annoyance. He really should have won already.

The Inquisitor had been distracted from his spell, however, so the three vampires who had been affected by it were slowly recovering, not that Sorin needed help. He just wished that they would recover faster so that he could send them after Kaelynn.

The human moved forward again, the white mana leaking off his skin dulling Sorin's vampiric abilities and putting them on a more even playing field. The Inquisitor dodged the first attack, deflecting the second as a glancing blow, and then ducked the third.

As the Inquisitor moved to counter, Sorin heard Kaelynn's voice echo through the halls, "Stop!"

Freezing for barely a second, it was still long enough for the blessed blade to leave a mark on his wrist. The Inquisitor looked quite pleased with himself, while Sorin growled. This had to end, preferably now, or Kaelynn was going to get herself killed.

"The Archangel is with me this day," the foolish zealot stated, raising his sword into an offensive position again.

Sorin rolled his golden eyes, "Really? I always thought her wingspan was too large to fit in these hallways."

The zealot didn't respond, raising his blade and suddenly chanting with his eyes shut, "Let the light of the Archangel be brought forth; let the power of her righteousness raze the world of the unclean." His eyes opened, glowing with white light. Oh, shit, he was an avatar? "In the name of Avacyn, let the darkness by cleansed!"

White light shot forth from his body, burning and purifying in it's wake. The bodies of the vampires were dissolved, the fallen Inquisitors and Paladins being raised to fight once more in the cause of the Archangel as the power of Avacyn began to destroy Sorin's vampiric comrades. Corina's scream could be heard above the rushing sound of unending light, and Vale was choking on his own blood at this point.

The light surrounded Sorin, biting and burning into his skin. In moments, it would reduce him to ash. Sorin cursed loudly. He could use black magic to transform into smoke and leave the area, but he would be deserted his comrades and leaving Kaelynn to die. Or he could reveal himself. After all that work he'd put into that girl, getting her to trust him, there was no way in hell he was going to abandon it all.

Well, he would just have to make certain that he killed the avatar when he was done.

Sorin closed his eyes, ignoring the screams and the cleansing fire as he tapped into the link between himself and his ancient creation. The light stopped burning; instead it was only increasing his power. The screams stopped; a gasp of awe came from one of the recently revived soldiers. Then Sorin reached out, reversing the effects of the light and pulling it out of everyone it had entered.

The vampire's wounds were healed, the Paladins and Inquisitors died once again, and the High Inquisitor hissed in a shakey voice, "No. No, it's not possible. You are. . . . You are a monster!"

Sorin opened his eyes, the light still being pulled into his being making him glow, and found the vampires all passed out in the hallways, their bodies recovering from the events of the past few moments. The Inquisitor was on his arse leaning up against the wall. "I've always found that ironic. You name us unnatural, state that we are monsters for being different than humans, and yet your precious Archangel is the same way." He leaned down and put a single finger on the man's chest, "If I'm a monster, then so is Avacyn."

He started pushing the corrupted light into the man, who screamed in an ear-splitting way that made Sorin wince. The light finally finished coming into the Vampire Lord, and the glowing ceased; the Inquisitor stopped making any noise at all, though he wasn't completely fried yet.

Before Sorin had disintegrated the avatar who had seen the connection between him and the Archangel, another scream rang out down the halls, and Sorin's head jerked around in the direction of the sound. That scream had been Kaelynn's.

Abandoning the half-dead man, Sorin ran at full speed around the corners until he found her. The stench of blood was strong, and his eyes were wide when he finally caught sight of her. She was alive, thank Avacyn, though there was a cut across her cheek that was bleeding. Still, the smell of blood was far too strong to simply be coming from that.

It took barely a moment for him to realize that there was a person in Kaelynn's lap as she rocked back and forth gently, tears pouring down her cheeks. Sorin looked down and recognized Abigail, blind and dead, with a sword wound in her chest. Someone had killed the girl but left Kaelynn alive. Why?

Kaelynn looked up at him with dead eyes. "This wasn't supposed to happen," she whispered, pulling the body to herself and staining her own clothes and hands with her best friend's blood. "This wasn't the plan. It should have been me."


	9. Bad Decisions

It had been three days. Three bloody days since the disastrous raid on the Silbern Chapel. Three days since the girl had died. Three days since Kaelynn had spoken a word.

While Sorin had hardly mourned for the death of the blonde, he did regret the lost opportunity. He had hoped to garner favor with the Kaelynn for the future, and that plan seemed to have backfired. Now he was just stuck in with a moping, guilty, practically useless human wandering about his mansion. It was irritating to say the least.

Sorin expressed his feelings on the matter with a deep sigh.

"You think you have problems now," Vale said somewhat ominously as he walked into the library where Markov was browsing through books. He was still looking for more information as to how the Purest Soul could be activated or removed from its human host, something his materials seemed to be lacking by far.

Sorin snapped the book shut and looked up with an arched eyebrow. "What's wrong?" He was almost eager for there to be problems among the demon lords, or something similar. It would give him an excuse to get away from the moping cleric before he lost it with her. It would also give him a good way to vent his anger against something that wasn't quite as fragile as the girl.

Vale looked surprised by his tone, but he didn't let it throw him off stride. "According to our sources, High Inquisitor Hypocrite survived."

Sorin cursed. "Fantastic," he growled sarcastically; that was not a problem that was easily fixed. "And I suppose that they've increased security around the tunnels?" Another one of the terrible results of their attack on the chapel- now they no longer had a way into the building.

"Yep," Vale confirmed, popping the last syllable.

"Damn it," he growled mana leaking off of him in his annoyance.

Vale noticed and pinpointed the source of the Vampire Lord's problems irritatingly fast. "You need to get out of this house. I don't know where you go on your travels- and I don't want to- but you're getting stir-crazy, and I'd rather not get decapitated because you're paranoid and antsy."

Sorin frowned heavily at his general, "When did you get so ballsy?"

"About the time you made me immortal," Vale responded with a crooked grin, but then he sobered. "Seriously, go do something; whatever it is you do for fun."

Sorin breathed a short laugh, but didn't comment. He wouldn't exactly say that his hobby of manipulating entire planes was "fun", but it was certainly what he did with the majority of his time. Unfortunately, there was a reason that he was here, and it tied in with the whole reason he was irritated in the first place. Kaelynn Grey. "Yeah," he responded noncommittally.

Vale didn't look convinced, and he tossed one last suggestion over his shoulder as he exited the library, "At least go hunting; I'm serious about not wanting to get decapitated."

Hunting. Now that was an option. Feeling impetuous and needing to channel all his impatient energy into something, Sorin didn't think it through or question why it was he hadn't fed since finding Kaelynn- that very day in fact. The memory of that young girl, the taste of her blood, made him smile. He might actually have to thank Vale for the suggestion.

Sorin left the Manor without a backwards glance and headed out across the countryside of Innistrad to the outskirts of the Silbern farms. He didn't want to get too close to the Chapel after the events of earlier that week, but he liked hunting here. There was something about the blood of young maidens that tasted better than the rest, and virgins were easier to find the closer you were to a Church establishment.

The thought briefly led him to consider the possible taste of Kaelynn's blood, Avacyn knew the smell was intoxicating enough, though he shook such musings off quickly. She was far more useful than just a food source. Or, at least, she was supposed to be.

He reached the nearest Silbern farms, but this time there was no conveniently placed young girl to satisfy his hunger. There was a young boy, fit and muscular, but Sorin was in the mood for softer flesh. A low growl rumbled up from his chest, and he moved further into the town despite the fact that it was a bit brash. Still nothing. The Vampire Lord drew close enough to one of the homes to be able to smell the cooking, using the shelter of the small hut to continue to search for better prey.

Suddenly, there was a soft tug on the sleeve of his long jacket, and Sorin looked down more in surprise than anything else to find a young girl, a child even by human terms, gazing up at him with innocent blue eyes.

"What'cha doing?" she asked cheerfully, a bright smile curving up her lips and revealing rows of small teeth. It was a true smile, an honest one, a rare thing in the land of Innistrad. She didn't know about the monsters in the dark yet.

He regarded her for a moment. The child's hair was black as night, and rather long for her young age, her pale face round and innocent. It was easy to tell, even at such a young age, that she would grow into a beautiful young woman. Sorin felt an odd feeling in his chest, something that he hadn't felt in so many years. Compassion? Tempered with regret.

"What's your name, child?" he asked her softly, keeping his voice low and soothing.

"Mum calls me Ella," she told Sorin brightly. "But Da always says," she suddenly assumed her best impression of her father, "'Her name be Gisela, woman, for the great angel. Don't you be disrespecting her!'" She giggled at her own impression and then gazed up at Sorin with massive sapphire eyes. "Da says that angels be great warriors who protect us from evil things. Are you an angel?"

Sorin blinked, his eyebrows skyrocketing. An angel? Him? Evidently her father hadn't yet gotten around to mentioning that angels were all female. Not to mention the other obvious discrepancies. "No; I'm not an angel."

"Aw." She looked truly disappointed. "I just thought maybe that was why you had funny hair."

Again, the Vampire Lord was thrown. Funny hair? What was wrong with- oh. She was referring to the color. "No," he responded simply. "Why don't you go back inside, Ella?"

She shrugged, "Don't wanna." She suddenly made a face and then whispered in a confiding tone, "Mum made _carrot soup_." She said it like it was the most horrendous thing ever created in the Multiverse, and Sorin had to struggle not to smile.

"What about the monsters in the dark?" he pressed, a bit curious to see how the child would respond.

"The angels will protect me," she responded simply.

Then someone inside the house called out, "Gisela! Get inside this instant!"

The child made a face. "That was my mum; I have to go." She paused briefly a few steps away from him, "Do you want to come in and eat? Mum says that some people _like_ carrot soup."

This time, the smile came from the thought of the reaction of her parents if he took the child up on that offer. "No, thank you."

"Okay." She waved cheerily and then disappeared into the small cabin.

 _The faith of a child is truly an astounding thing,_ a soft, female voice whispered in his mind, and Sorin suddenly frowned.

He promptly slammed the door on his mental connection between him and the Archangel that had been cracked open since he had used their link to defeat the High Inquisitor. He was going to have to keep an eye on that.

Suddenly feeling even more irritated than he had been before, Sorin threw caution to the wind and moved to a farm on the edge of the woods, detached from the rest of Silbern. He walked right up to the front door and smashed it open with a hand.

There were three people seated at the table, in the midst of praying to the Archangel, who all stared for a moment in shock at his appearance. There were two females, sisters, not mother and daughter, who both began screaming as they stood from the table, rushing to the back door. Sorin sent out a single hint of black magic and sealed it shut, preventing their escape.

The one man stood as well, reaching for the fire poker, evidently the only weapon he had, as he placed himself between Sorin and the women.

Feeling generous, or maybe vindictive, Sorin offered, "I'll let you leave, if you wish." He was lying. He just wanted the man to take the apparent escape, wanted him to take the coward's way out, wanted him to desert his wife and sister-in-law. Why? He wasn't quite certain.

The man didn't take it, though. "Never, monster," he growled, his voice surprisingly strong, really. "I won't let you have them."

Sorin growled, annoyed, and moved up to the man in the time it took for him to blink, a hand coming up to wrap around his neck. He hissed down in his ear, "You can't stop me." Then he snapped the man's neck while the two girls screamed. It wasn't as fulfilling as he'd hoped it would be.

The two women were whimpering at the door, both of them now seated with their backs against it, holding one another in their arms.

Sorin decided to be cruel, and reached out with mana to ensnare the mind of one of them. "Come here," he said firmly, and she obeyed despite her sister's protests and attempts to keep her away.

When the one he had manipulated was nearly to him, the other stood suddenly and interposed herself between the pair of them, grabbing the poker from the dead man. "Leave her, fiend!" she hissed, jabbing at him without any effect.

Why? Why did they have no self-preservation instincts? Why did humans rush so blindly to their deaths for the sake of another? What was it that drove such foolish behavior?

He snatched the ineffective weapon from the woman's hands and jerked her forward into his arms, forcing her to look up at him, her frightened eyes filled with tears while the sister he had enthralled looked on blindly. "Why?" he asked her softly, running his hand across her face as she flinched away from the action. "Why would you give your life for hers?"

She looked up at him like he was the fool, as though he were missing the most obvious thing in the world. "She's my sister."

Sorin snapped her neck. It hadn't really been a purposeful thing this time, more a reflexive one, an action driven from those words, from such a useless explanation.

_She's my sister._

Growling again in annoyance, he dashed over to the woman he had enthralled and drank deeply; somehow it didn't seem to sate anything. He ripped her throat out before he was done, anger burning white-hot within him, leading him to kill, to destroy.

_She's my sister._

Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like you would have had to have been a monster not to step in, not to put yourself before another, particularly one of your bloodline. What did bloodline, family, really matter in the end? It was a mortal connection, one that death severed instantly. One that he could even break by enthralling one of them.

_She's my sister._

Pathetic. Human relationships boiled down to nothing in the end. In fact, all relationships were completely worthless; they gave nothing but heartache and pain while one lived, and once death had claimed you they did nothing. Death broke all bonds, in the end.

Still feeling vindictive, he set the house on fire before turning into smoke and drifting away, eventually allowing himself to rematerialize in the middle of the woods where he had first met that irritating cleric. He should just enthrall her, he realized suddenly. She was of no use to him as a pet, and once she was his he could just make her give him the artifact. Simple. Easy. Neat. Why hadn't he done it before?

"You didn't need to kill all of them," that perfect female voice echoed, not in his head this time, but right in front of him.

Avacyn's wings were folded against her back, like they never were in any portrait or painting that existed of her being. Her white hair wasn't flying in the wind; it was just straight, tame, lying back across her back, falling down between the bones of the massive white wings connected to her back. They were symbols, symbols of her power, of her might, of her purity, of her holiness. And she had put them down for the time being.

He hated when she did that. "I felt like it," he snapped, not in the mood to deal with his angelic creation at the moment.

She wasn't bright and filled with the sun right now, her power echoing and reflecting off of every surface. She wasn't announcing her presence to the world. Instead, her pale face shone softly with the light of the full moon, and her deep black eyes almost held a flicker of color. Almost. But they didn't, and they never would.

"You created me as a savior," she said softly, taking a step towards him.

"Not as mine," he growled, knowing where she was going with this. "I neither need nor desire a savior."

"Then why create me?" she challenged, sounding far too intelligent, far too autonomous for his tastes.

"To save humanity, of course," he told her with a false expression of innocence, like he was someone who would do something so entirely benign.

"Yet you kill," she accused, a hint of anger leaking into her words. He had created her; odds were she was going to take after him in some ways.

"Have to; it's written into the race description," he told her snarkily, but the words were bitten, sharp. A part of him wanted to snap her neck, but that would be such a massive waste of effort.

"You didn't need to kill all three of them!" A blade appeared in her hand, a brief flash of sunlight coming through her form as justice demanded that she strike him down in that very moment. And then she seemed to deflate, looking so incredibly torn as she gazed upon his golden eyes. "You created me to save humanity. Yet you kill humans. And I cannot kill you," she whispered, and he almost winced.

He had given her counteracting mandates. Commands that were, by their very definition, at odds with one another. She was, at heart, such a truly simple being. After all, creating something more complex was beyond even his capabilities, no matter how much she sometimes liked to pretend that she was something more than what he had made her to be. Or maybe the problem was that she was exactly what he had made her to be.

"I created you to save humanity," he lied, knowing that to express her true purpose would likely drive his beautiful angel into true madness, "not every individual human."

She didn't look happy about it, but the answer at least worked for the time being. Her eyes were on the ground when she spoke next. "What is your command, my lord?"

He heaved a soft sigh, "I want to know everything about the High Inquisitor at the Silbern Chapel, your Avatar. I also want to know exactly what happened in the confrontation that resulted in Abigail's death."

Avacyn bowed slightly, "As you command." Then she was simply gone.

Saryn stared after her for a moment, a variety of conflicting emotions running through him, and, to cap the entire spectacularly bad day off, he was still hungry. Sighing in annoyance, he turned to head back to his Manor. He needed to get off this damnable plane- and all the memories it held.

0-0-0-0-0

Kaelynn stared blankly at one of the massive tapestries on the wall of Markov Manor, this one apparently depicting some kind of old battle. She didn't recognize any of the figures though, or even the method of weaving. How far away had Sorin gone on some of his travels?

Wherever he had gotten the massive wall rug, Kaelynn found it oddly fascinating. There was some kind of knight, though he looked nothing like the Knights of Avacyn, riding a pure white steed. He was shoving a lance through some kind of beast, but it didn't look like any kind of the monsters Kaelynn had ever seen. And, anyway, why would a _vampire_ have a painting of some kind of church official killing a monster? This, at least, made more sense than that.

The Master of Markov Manor, as the vampire known as Vale had helpfully informed her, was gone. He hadn't seemed to want to stick around with her, and she hadn't really wanted the company either, so Kae hadn't gotten any details as to where Sorin had gone, or when he'd return. She didn't really want to guess at it, either, since she was pretty sure that her immediate assumption of "hunting" was fairly accurate. Best not to think about that.

In fact, she had found over the last few days that it was best not to think about anything. Don't think about Jerad, or his manic smile as he had decided to kill her only family in order to teach _Kaelynn_ a lesson. Don't think about Abigail's blood running all over her hands and dress as she held her lifeless body in her hands. Don't think about how much it reminded her of Kaleb's body, and the way that his blood had flowed almost unendingly onto the forest floor. Definitely don't think about all the lives that had been lost for absolutely nothing.

Yeah, she wasn't doing a very good job of any of it. And every time one of those stray thoughts hit her again, her eyes would tear up and her hands would start shaking and her stomach would start to churn, and she would just have to stand there and breathe and think about _anything_ else to make it all stop.

"You would think that eventually it would stop hurting so bad," she muttered almost contemplatively to the empty halls. "But it never does."

And the massive irony of the whole thing was that now she was lonely. She'd been avoiding Sorin over the past few days, not wanting to answer his questions about anything, not really wanting to talk, period, but now that he was gone she _missed_ his presence. Apparently, she had started feeling safe around the Vampire Lord, something that had been evidenced very clearly when she had believed that he would save he from Jared.

"He's a vampire," she proclaimed to the empty castle. "What makes me think I can trust him?"

Sighing, she continued wandering down the same hallway. She still hadn't broached the staircase, but as massive as the castle had looked from the outside, it was almost like it was even bigger within. It gave off the impression that she could spend her entire mortal life investigating the building and still not discover half of its secrets before she died. Instead of making her feel weird and uncomfortable, the castle made her curious, and, again, safe.

"You have rotten instincts," she told herself quietly, but then fell silent as she approached a pair of doors she had never before seen.

The one on the right, leading no doubt to the eastern wing of the Manor, was normal, unassuming, but it was not the one that had stolen her attention.

There was something about the door on the left, a pulsing energy, a power that seemed to resonate from the very wood, and it had ensnared her the moment she had laid eyes upon it. Practically speaking, Kaelynn knew that it probably just led to the western wing of the castle, but there was something more to it. She could _feel_ it, in her bones. Also, there was this massive rune drawn unto the wood with something that looked scarily like blood, and it was _whispering_ to her.

"Hello?" she called out softly, her breathing coming in short pants, though she wasn't sure if it were from fear or excitement. The temperature seemed to have dropped by fifty degrees, and she could see the puffs of breath in front of her face. _Something_ was pushing at the edges of her mind, but doors didn't have telepathic capabilities. "Who's there?" she asked, a slight tremble to her voice.

 _Don't be afraid_ , a soft, aged male voice said her mind. The sound of it was comparable to that of an old grandfather holding a child on his knee, telling a story, or offering comfort following an injury of some kind.

Kaelynn immediately relaxed. "Who are you?" she asked, but this time there was only a child-like, innocent curiosity in her voice.

 _I am. . . a friend_ , the voice responded softly, the words like a physical carrass. _Your friend._

She believed him. "Okay." There was a brief pause. "Do you know where Sorin is?"

 _Sorin?_ The voice suddenly chuckled. _Why do you ask after him, child? Surely you know he means to kill you._

Kaelynn frowned immediately; that didn't sound right. "What? No he doesn't," she objected, and then giggled. "Are you playing a joke?"

 _No, my child, this is serious. Do you see that rune on the door?_ the voice asked her gravely.

"Uh. . . yeah. Why? Is it important?"

_Very. There are many spells, enchantments, and wards placed over this door that keep me locked away, but that one is the most important. It is drawn with the blood of an innocent sacrifice._

Kaelynn froze, unable to doubt the words of the voice. "Sorin? But why would he do that? Why does he keep you locked up?" Who would lock an old, kind grandfather away like that?

_He is a bad person, Kaelynn, and I wanted to stop him. Do you understand?_

"Just like in the stories," she said slowly. "You were the good guy, and he was the bad guy. So he locked you away so that he could do what he wanted!" At first, her voice was triumphant because she had figured out the puzzle. Then she frowned. "He's the bad guy?" It was impossible to hide her sorrow and disappointment from the voice in her mind, even had she tried.

 _I'm afraid so. But it's alright,_ he soothed. _He is very good at deceiving people._

"Like Avacyn," Kaelynn said softly, feeling sad and betrayed. He was the bad guy, an evil monster. She should have known better.

 _Avacyn?_ the man behind the door echoed, sounding confused, but it didn't last long. _Yes, dear, like Avacyn. But you can help yourself. And her. You just have to let me out, and then the good guys can win,_ he promised.

Kaelynn blinked, looking about for a doorknob or a keyhole, but the door was completely blank. There was no visible way to open it. "How can I do that?"

_You just have to wipe away the Blood Rune. That is all._

"And then the good guys win?" she said hopefully.

_Yes, dearest. The good guys win._

"They never win," Kaelynn whispered despondently. "My brother didn't."

 _This time they can,_ the old grandfather voice vowed solemnly.

Kaelynn smiled, suddenly happy, brighter than she'd been in months. "Okay!" She turned to go find what she would need to wipe away the rune on the door- and froze.

Three yards away from her, at the beginning of the hallway in which she stood, was Sorin Markov in all of his royal, vampiric might, glaring at her in unrestrained anger.

He was at her side in an instant, his grip like steel on her arm as she looked hopelessly into those golden portals. "What the hell are you doing?"


	10. Blood Rune

"What the hell are you doing?"

At Sorin's growled words, the strange, grandfatherly voice in Kaelynn's mind fled, taking with it the child-like, youthful innocent that had crept over her person. Suddenly, she was very much aware once again of her surroundings, her grief, and, trumping even that at the moment, the presence of a thoroughly pissed off Vampire Lord breathing down in her face.

"I. . . uh. . . don't know?" she tried without a whole lot of certainty.

Sorin growled and threw her forcibly back against the wall, his elongated canines quite visible and his fury far from appeased.

She cringed away from him, wishing that she could melt into the wall behind her, or maybe into the landscape painting that hung a good few inches above her head. Her breath was coming in quick gasps. For once, there was no doubt in her mind what Sorin was, nor was there anything less than perfect clarity as to what she, in that moment, was to him.

He was the hunter, perfect and sleek in all his predatory glory, his image and voice tailored to be seen as attractive in order to lure people into his snare. Not that he needed it- he was faster and stronger than she could ever comprehend, and he had the use of insanely powerful magic on top of it all. He was the perfect hunter.

And she was his prey.

Sorin stormed towards her and slammed his hand into the wall next to her head, making her flinch and start to hyperventilate. This was too familiar.

"What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" He spoke every word separately and distinctly, his voice quiet and deceptively calm.

"I don't- I was walking, wandering, around the castle. I mean, Vale told me you were gone, and I thought- I just wanted- I found the door. Here. These doors. And there was a voice. Sounded like a grandfather in the stories. In my head. It was talking, but I can't remember- I was going to go find something, and you were there, and-" The words just spilled out of her, chopped and sporadic, not making much sense at all, until she finally clamped her mouth shut, tears slipping down from her eyes. "I can't do this," she whispered quietly, slipping down to the ground in the only way that she could escape his piercing gaze. "Avacyn help me, I can't do this."

She lay there for a few moments in utter silence, curled up at the Vampire Lord's feet. A part of her mind wondered morbidly how many innocent girls he had broken in this mansion and had ended up in the same position, sobbing at the feet of their captor.

A hand closed around her upper arm, hauling her to her feet none to gently, but it wasn't overly harsh either. Once she was standing on her own feet, Sorin released her arm in exchange for her chin, tilting her head up to look at him, forcing her eyes to meet his own.

"Go back to your room," he told her firmly, "and do not leave until I come to fetch you."

The order weaved its way around her, and she could feel the compulsion in her mind, the pushing to do as he said. It wasn't real strong now, but she had a feeling that it would get stronger if she even entertained the notion of disobeying him.

Without another word, she turned and stumbled out of the hallway. As soon as she was out of his sight, she broke into a flat run, fleeing back through the mansion towards the great hall. As soon as she reached it, Kaelynn felt as though all strength fled her limbs, and she tripped over her own feet, coming to a sprawling halt on the wooden floor directly in front of the massive doors through which she had first entered the mansion.

Lacking even the strength to stand, she pulled herself into a ball and laid her forehead on her knees. She could not do this any more. For years, she had just pressed on, all alone, and now- now she was just done.

As she lay there, contemplating the different ways available to her to end her own life, a small gentle hand landed on her back, making her stiffen.

A soft, quiet feminine voice whispered softly by her ear, "Don't despair, child. There is always hope."

Filled with an unexplainable urge to trust, Kaelynn spun around and flung her arms around the small, petite woman as though she were a child, crying into the stranger's shoulder in the way she had never been able to with her own mother.

The female gently ran her hands through Kaelynn's hair, murmuring quiet, calming words, until the young human girl fell asleep.

_**0-0-0-0-0** _

The Avacynian Council of Silbern was the highest ranking authority in the province of Stensia, even if the chapel itself was quite tiny in comparison with some of the larger cathedrals that stood throughout Innistrad, mainly in Gavony. They were the leaders of the cathars, the protectors of the innocent, and the rulers of the Inquisitor forces. The Counselors were the most devout, just men and women the land of Stensia, overrun as it was by the vampire bloodlines, had to offer, and Jeremiah had sworn an oath to serve them like all Inquisitors who made the chapel their home.

Thus, it was with extreme ire and caution that he now disobeyed a direct order from Counselor Teresta herself in leaving the infirmary where had had been holed up for the past several days following his encounter with the dangerous vampire known as Markov.

His armor and weapons were temporarily laid aside, and as he doubted his weakened body had the strength to carry them, he did not go searching. The bodies of his fallen comrades were no longer lying about in the halls, but his mind's eye remembered the battle well. Markov and the demonfriend would pay for what they had done, and should Avacyn answer his prayers, it would be at his own blade.

The thudding of approaching footfalls in the hallway brought Jeremiah to a brief stop, but only the infirmary staff had heard the Counselor's command that had officially ended Jeremiah's debating about leaving his bed. Whoever was approaching, they would not think anything out of order that he was simply going for a walk about the chapel, nor could they possibly know what he planned to do next. Satisfied, he resumed his rather slow pace, his injuries causing him more pain than he cared to admit. Whatever it was that Markov had done to him, it seemed only time and rest would heal it, for the attempts by the clerics had proved entirely unsuccessful.

"Feeling better, then?" a far too familiar voice asked, the tone dark.

Jeremiah lifted his eyes and pulled his attention from thoughts of revenge to recognize the shape of Templar Jared towering above him, far closer than he really ought to have been. Before he could react in any way, the Templar had grabbed him by the neck and slammed him up against the wall, causing his head to ring uncomfortably.

"It would have been better for you if the vampire had just finished you off," the Templar growled, his blue eyes flaming with insanity.

Jeremiah choked, unable to speak a word or draw in a breath, his body too drained to stand even the slightest chance against the incredibly strong grip.

The glove tightened around his neck, and Jeremiah sent a fleeting prayer to the Archangel for her guidance into the life beyond as his vision started to turn white.

However, before he could pass out completely, Jared dropped him, sending him sprawling to the floor, coughing as he pulled in ragged breaths through a nearly crushed throat.

Jeremiah looked up, the entire proceedings beyond shocking to him, while the Templar simply adjusted his glove, paying him no mind.

"She tells me I ought to have been control of my temper," he informed the High Inquisitor, his voice level and careless, as though they were just having a simple conversation. "Says I'm too impulsive." He finally looked down, regarding the wheezing man for a moment, "Perhaps she's right. You could be useful. Maybe. Although I'm still quite displeased with you for letting Markov live." He knelt down, and grabbed Jeremiah's hair, forcing the Inquisitor to meet his eyes. "When this is over, you will either redeem yourself by killing him, or I will kill you." He suddenly smiled, "A win-win scenario for me." Then he rose and walked away without another word, leaving Jeremiah on the floor.

The man was completely insane. Jeremiah couldn't think of a single other explanation for what had just occurred. Hauling himself to his feet, he stared down the hallway after the retreating figure of the Templar until he rounded the corner. Accusing a Templar of such things would be equivalent to committing suicide unless he had irrefutable evidence, which meant that dealing with him would simply have to wait.

His pace faster now following the near-death experience in the hall, Jeremiah descended into the bowels of the chapel, giving a brief nod to the pair of guards who stood on duty before the door that shielded the staircase from view. The steps continued down, down, down until Jeremiah had lost count. They proceeded until his feet were aching, and his legs threatened to give out under his own weight, and then they continued still.

Finally, he stumbled down the final step into utter darkness, the torches set at intervals along the wall on the staircase not serving to penetrate even an inch into the thick, stifling dark. Jeremiah summoned up a witch-light with a flicker of white mana, sending the orb to hover near the ceiling so that it illuminated more of the room. The white mana sent the darkness scurrying and revealed a rectangular room, about ten by seven meters, with uniform black walls made from thick blocks of stone.

The room was entirely empty save for the massive circular platform sitting in the exact center of the room. It was a steel plate, approximately five meters in diameter, and over seven centimeters thick. Inscribed on the top of the plate was a faded rune that appeared to have been etched in blood and a plaque with a single warning repeated in half a dozen languages that stated simply- "Do not listen."

Jeremiah had only been in that room once before, and it had been the day of his appointment to High inquisitor. His predecessor had brought him down into the depths of the chapel and showed him the room, giving him a warning never to return save to show his apprentice when one day he had grown too old to continue. Back then, the same stifling feeling of suffocation and deep, settled instinct of dread had overcome him within moments. When his mentor had told him he could leave, he had fled and not slept for days after the encounter.

Though there was nothing overtly dangerous or frightening in the room, there were _whispers_. From the moment he stepped into the room, Jeremiah could feel, on the edges of his mind, creatures and things pushing against the mental barriers he had constructed long ago. The cavern was filled with the echoing murmurs of creatures and beings speaking in languages long forgotten to men, disclosing revelations that even uncomprehended could still drive one to madness.

The darkness in that room, the words spoken, both had a true weight to them, mass that would settle inside of a person and weigh them down to the deepest depths of hell if they were allowed. Despite being of far greater power and fortitude than he had been the first time he had entered the room, Jeremiah could still feel his willpower and sanity begin to fray under the echoing words that surrounded him. The urge to run was nearly overpowering.

The High Inquisitor took a deep breath of the stagnant air and forced his feet to take a step forward, murmuring old mantras of mastery of fear as he reached the edge of the massive, heavy steel plate.

Losing confidence briefly, he reached out and snagged a chant that every child on the face of Innistrad whispered to help sleep come. "Avacyn hear me; Avacyn protect me. We will not fear, for she is near, and in her hands we are safe."

_Not here._

Jeremiah lurched, his head snapping about, looking for the one who had spoken. It took him several moments too long to realise that the voice wasn't physically present- it was in his mind.

The telepathic whisper had been deep, dark, male, and had sounded grimly amused.

This was why he was here. Jeremiah firmly reminded himself of that fact as he tried to calm his racing heart. "I have come seeking information," he tried to say boldly, but his voice fell short in the oppressing darkness.

A dark chuckle resonated through his skull. _Is that so? You really ought to heed the warning on the door, little human._

It took the Inquisitor a moment to realise that he was referring to the massive steel circle as a door. The implication immediately unnerved him.

_I can see you are stubborn. Also foolish. But why should I offer you anything? What will you give to me in return?_

"Not your freedom," Jeremiah was quick to state.

There was a rather put-upon sigh. _You really need to work on your negotiating skills._

"I will not set you loose to terrorize-" Jeremiah cut off suddenly as a cold wind rushed through the chambers, effectively stealing his voice.

 _I grow bored of your posturing,_ it growled. _Give me one good reason why I ought not simply demolish your mind and leave you a blubbering fool._

Jeremiah gasped as his voice returned, physically shaking now. He shouldn't have been able to do that. "I. . . . Revenge. I can offer you revenge," the High Inquisitor declared.

There was silence for a few moments, and Jeremiah began to grow nervous, fidgeting where he stood. Then, suddenly, dark, booming laughter echoed through his mind, growing stronger and louder until the force of it drove Jeremiah to his knees, clutching his head in pain.

Finally, after several long moments, it faded. _Revenge_ , it mused. _What is your question, boy? You have peaked my curiosity, if nothing else._

Jeremiah slowly pulled himself unsteadily to his feet and took a few calming breaths that didn't exactly work. "What do you know about the Markov House?"

Complete and utter silence met his words. _Many things,_ came the eventual response.

"Sorin Markov," Jeremiah specified. "What do you know of him?"

 _He is. . . powerful. A ruler amongst the demon and vampire houses. I grow bored of this,_ it said abruptly, and Jeremiah felt the presence begin to retreat.

"Wait!" he called out, and then simply blurted the next thing that came to mind. "What about the Markov Demon?"

The presence in his mind froze, and Jeremiah could actually feel it radiating shock. Then it was laughing again, muttering nonsense as it did so. _I knew it! He sent you, didn't he? I knew I felt him. . . ._ The laughter faded into chuckles and then, _The Markov Demon is a myth- a legend that goes along these lines. It has been said that the Markov line was the first vampire line. That the one known as the Markov Demon created vampires themselves._ There was a pause. _That's not true though,_ the fiend mentioned off-handedly. _A human created vampires. The demon just helped. And he was not named Markov._

Jeremiah swallowed hard. "A human? How could a human create vampires?"

_I don't know. Maybe something like this._

The underground chamber suddenly filled with the sound of High Inquisitor Jeremiah's screams.

_**0-0-0-0-0** _

"What on earth did you do to that poor girl?"

Sorin glanced briefly over to the approaching woman before returning to his intense examination of the door to the western wing of the mansion. The wards were all still in place; how the hell had he managed to communicate with Kaelynn?

"Oi! I'm talking to you! It's incredibly rude to invite someone to your home and then completely ignore them."

Sighing, he turned and briefly examined his visitor. She had pitch black hair that was pulled back in a braid and yet still fell to her waist. Her skin was very pale, but only her face remained uncovered. She wore an incredibly tight leather jacket that was zipped up her front with equally tight black leather pants and boots whose heels were basically stilts. She still wasn't taller than him, though. Her eyes were a sharp, deep blue.

"You could have at least made an effort to blend in," he stated after a moment.

Her eyes narrowed, "And you could have at least made an effort to be polite."

The corner of his lips twitched in a smile. "Welcome home, Raven."

She didn't have any such reservations, her face lighting up with a massive grin. "Thanks." There was a brief pause. "You moved the painting back," she noted, and Sorin was abruptly reminded of Kaelynn's words when he had first brought her into the Manor.

"I hate that painting," he responded, his voice a low growl.

She chuckled, "I remember." There was another pause, but it wasn't uncomfortable. "Seriously, though, what's with the girl? Is she my replacement? 'Cause I was kind of expecting more," she teased.

Sorin's eyes darkened. "She is. . . baffling," he finally muttered, his exasperation seeping through into his tone.

Raven blinked, surprised. "Is she now?" she asked coyly. "Well that's new."

Sorin tossed her a half-hearted glare, and then returned to staring at the door inscribed with a Blood Rune. Why had Kaelynn even been near here?

Raven walked over next to him, and stared at the door as well. "Something happen?"

"He spoke to her," Sorin confided. "And I don't know how."

"Maybe she's special," she offered.

"She is, but not in such a way that she could just brush aside all the wards. At least, I don't think so." He heaved a frustrated sigh at the reminder of the lack of information about the relic the girl contained. "What news is there of other planes?"

Raven shrugged. "Not much of anything so far. Bolas' agents are spending a fair amount of time around the Shards of Alara."

"He's betting on the Maelstrom."

"Seems so," she agreed. "And you?"

"Complicated," he answered, "and I don't want to explain it right now."

"Right, you're far too busy staring at a door," she said sarcastically.

He ignored that. "How close is he?"

"No idea," she said carelessly, but then grew more serious, "but I wouldn't put my money on him being much longer. I don't like hanging around him or his people- I imagine my reasons are self explanatory- but it seems like things are falling into place."

He sighed again. "I've been taking too long," he said quietly. "Allowed myself to be distracted."

Raven regarded him for a long moment. "I have to admit, I was surprised that you were still here." Pause. "She must be quite special."

Sorin's eyes narrowed, and he turned to look at her sharply. "She's useful," he corrected with a growl. "Or she was."

"Don't bother her right now." It wasn't an order, rather a request without asking.

Sorin arched an eyebrow, "You've known her for all of three minutes, and you're already protecting her?"

"She's tired," Raven said simply, and then sighed. "Come on; it can wait one more day. Anyway, we both know that you want to stand here staring at the door all night anyway."

Sorin hesitated briefly and then conceded with a slight nod. "Fine. Your room is the way you left it."

"Is that a dismissal, my lord?" she teased.

He smirked, "Get out of here."

She gave a flourishing curtsy and then started to walk away, but she hesitated at the end of the hallway. "Hey, Sorin?" She waited for him to turn to her and arch an eyebrow. "Why did you call me, anyway?"

His eyes darkened somewhat. "I'll tell you in the morning."

"Oh. Well that doesn't bode well," she muttered quietly. "'Night, Sorin."

He didn't respond, already lost in the layers of wards elaborately crisscrossed over the door. The Blood Rune etched on the wood pulsed.


	11. Patience

Jared's metal boots clicked on the stone roof of the Silbern watchtower as he walked over to the edge. He looked out over the valley of little, helpless, pathetic humans and heaved a put-upon sigh.

A young woman ran up to the watchtower while he looked on, screaming as she was pursued by a pair of vampires. She reached the door of the tower and pounded on it with both her fists. "Help me! Please, open the door!"

No doubt the guards Jared had killed on his way up were rolling over in their graves as they remained unable to carry out their duties. The thought brought a cold smile to his lips, and he watched apathetically as the vampires reached the helpless girl and ripped her limbs from her torso as they ate her flesh. They were clearly feral.

Scream after scream ripped from her throat, and she mindlessly called out the name of the Archangel until her lungs filled with blood. Then one of the vampires ripped her throat out.

Silence reigned once more, aside from the gruesome squelching sounds the vampires continued to make as they devoured her flesh.

Jared sighed again, this time in annoyance, and briefly weighed the effort of going down to kill them in order to make them shut the bloody hell up. The girl's screaming had given him a migraine.

"Oh, Avacyn, save me," he mocked, assuming a mock female voice briefly before spitting. "Pathetic."

 _They all are,_ she whispered quietly, her voice filled with spite. _All of them, depending on that lying bitch for their salvation._

"So did you," Jared reminded her. He enjoyed lording that little fact over the passenger in his head- enjoyed the pain and anger that the reminder brought her, even if it did echo in his own psyche.

 _Not for salvation,_ she growled. _I never asked for her salvation._

"Why would you need salvation? Aren't you supposed to be perfect?"

 _I_ _ **am**_ _perfect. It is she who is lacking. She who is polluted. She who needs to die._

"Yes, yes," Jared sighed. "I'm well aware of your desire to rip her throat out and all those other, admittedly amusing, desires."

_As I am well aware your obsession with that foolish girl. Tell me, what is it about her that captures you so?_

"She is. . . different."

_Bah! They are all the same._

"Take care," Jared growled. "She is mine."

She scoffed, and then there was a moment of silence.

 _The church is corrupt_ , she stated, rather out of the blue. _It needs to be destroyed._

Jared arched an eyebrow. "I thought killing her and her creator were our first priorities?"

_They are. But after._

Jared hummed. "Well, once we're finished here, you'll be in the perfect position to do whatever you damn well please with the church and all its officials."

_I think I'll do away with the Gavony High Council. Make you the one and only High Priest of my will._

"Me?" Jared echoed with a chuckle. "Flattering as that is, you know I have no plans to remain anywhere near the church. Once we're finished, I will be focusing all my attention on our dear Ms. Grey."

 _I hate her,_ she growled. _She's just like my sister._

"No. She has been misled. Your sister mislead others. I will bring Kaelynn back to the light."

_Whose light?_

"Well, yours, of course, oh blessed goddess."

 _Your mockery does not go unnoticed,_ she growled.

"And yet you wanted to make me your own and only High Priest."

 _I rather thought I would first consume your mind_ , she admitted, not at all abashed.

"Watch yourself," he warned, "else perhaps I will abandon your cause. I have no pressing desire to reform the system aside from you."

 _It is corrupt,_ she insisted.

"Yes, but I can manipulate corruption."

_Some hero you are._

"I am a hero," Jared growled lowly. "Heroes work within the system they have been provided to save the world- to save something much bigger than the system. I leave the change to you."

_And the human girl? How does she play into this?_

"Every hero needs a princess," he mused with a slight smile. "She is perfect- beautiful, innocent, the embodiment of everything pure."

 _ **I**_ _am the embodiment of everything pure._

"Yes, but you're not human," he told her patiently. "She will be my princess, and you will be our goddess."

She hummed, apparently placated. _I grow weary of waiting. I want to strike._

"Patience," Jared scolded softly. "Isn't that what you're always telling me?"

A flash of humor echoed through their joined mind. _It looks like someone was not so patient._

Frowning, Jared turned and stared in shock as he found that the entire Silbern Chapel behind him was going up in flames. The officials and inhabitants were fleeing, most with hoods and clothing on fire, as many more screams rang out amongst the flames. The smoke was blowing in the opposite direction of the watchtower on the slight breeze, but Jared could still make out the scent of burning flesh and ash.

He jumped down from the watchtower, a good ten meters above the ground, and felt her strengthen his legs to prevent the bones from cracking. Then he ran towards the disturbance.

No one paid him any mind as they fled from the burning building in shock and horror, many of the healers crying out for their children who often clung to their skirts while they worked in the infirmary. Jared ignored their cries, his sharp eyes picking out a solitary standing figure in the flames.

Casting a quick ward around himself with a flash of white mana, he ventured into the building, which was being consumed with fire far too rapidly for it to be a natural thing. The support pillars creaked and groaned, fractions of the ceiling collapsing around him, but he paid it no mind even as a few shards hit his ward and rebounded. The flames licked around the bottoms of his feet and pants as he approached the single figure.

"Who are you? What have you done?" It was just a guess, but a fairly informed one. After all, who but the one who had started the fire would be standing in the midst of it completely unharmed?

The towering figure turned, the plate armor he wore reflecting the light of the flames. The first things Jared noticed about the man, forcing him to take an involuntary step backwards, were his eyes. They were pitch black, all the way through, lit with the glow of the flames. And then he saw the rest of the face.

"Jeremiah?" he breathed, aghast.

The man, who was almost certainly not the High Inquisitor, smiled a predatory smile. Then he turned and started to walk away.

Jared moved forward after him, but a massive part of the citadel above him cracked and shattered. He looked up just in time to see it fall, and then all he saw was darkness.

_**0-0-0-0-0** _

"So, why is it that you called me here again?" Raven asked as she stepped into the library, her high heeled boots clicking on the stone floor.

Sorin was sitting at a desk, pouring over books of enchantments and various wards, but he looked up when she entered with a sigh. "How was your rest?"

"Boring. Now stop dodging the question." Raven walked over and sat down on the corner of his desk, peering down at his papers. "Why am I here?"

Sorin sighed and closed the book, leaning back in his chair as he looked up at her. "What do you know about Innistrad's Age of the Dragons?"

Raven frowned. "Uh. . . about as much as I do about any other plane's Dragon Age. Why the sudden interest?"

"The Purest Soul was created with the power of the Light Dragons of Innistrad. I need to know how it works."

"Sacrifice," Raven responded instantly. "I mean, that would be my first guess. Magic in general, and especially the old magicks, always comes at a price; dark magic tends to either shove the price on someone else or save it for later, sometimes both, and light magic usually requires self-sacrifice or an act of heroism."

"When it was used before, the woman who did so died."

"Well, that's. . . shitty," Raven summed up quite eloquently.

Sorin scoffed. "Certainly one way to put it. Then again, what is one more life to pay?"

Raven frowned down at him. "Because she's special."

"Hardly."

The black haired woman pursed her lips and gazed sternly down at him. "Listen, I may not be nearly as old as you, and maybe we're nothing more than old acquaintances, though there was at least one time when I considered us friends, but regardless of any of that, you obviously feel something for her."

Sorin stood and glared down into her icy blue eyes. "You overstep your bounds, Raven," he growled. "She is nothing more than a mere tool."

Raven stood as well, not backing down, "If that is so, then why wait for me to arrive? You already knew the key to it; you already knew the price that had to be paid last time. This could have been over weeks ago!"

"I've only known she was the Purest Soul for a few days, and I didn't want to take the risk. You have no idea how hard it was to find her in the first place!"

"Oh, come on! You waited because you wanted me to tell you that there was another way! You wanted me to tell you that she didn't have to die! You feel something-"

Sorin growled, deep, low, and threatening, effectively shutting Raven up for a moment. "Enough." With that apparently finished, he resumed his seat and returned his attention to his book.

Raven stood utterly still and silent for a few moments before sighing slightly. "You don't fool me. But I get it. I mean, she does look kind of like-" Raven cut off suddenly, a guilty look on her face as she realized that she'd said too much.

Sorin's eyes snapped up to her face, intently searching her expression. "And how would you know what _she_ looked like?" They were no longer talking about Kaelynn.

"Uh. . . lucky guess?" she tried, backing up slightly as Sorin stood and started cornering her.

"Raven," he cautioned, moving towards her until her back hit the wall and putting himself in her personal space as he gazed down at her.

She winced, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor. "Someone may have. . . showed me. Once."

"Oh?" His voice was deceptively calm and smooth, coaxing. "And who was that?"

"Sorin," she tried, only to flinch away from him as his hand came down hard on the wall next to her head, rattling the books on their shelves. She was far from weak, but she knew exactly where her power rated in comparison to his.

"Who?" he repeated, his voice low.

"It wasn't a who." When his eyes narrowed dangerously, she hurried to explain, "I mean, it was more of an it. I think. It's complicated."

He sighed and moved away, regarding her evenly with his unnerving golden eyes. "Start from the beginning then."

"Right. Beginning." She took a deep breath. "Uh. . . well, you know I've always been interested in dragons. Of various planes. After I investigated Tarkir and what was remembered of their histories, I came back here."

"There are no dragons here; there are barely even any memories of the dragons here," Sorin interrupted impatiently. "You've told me this."

"Yeah, well. . . I lied. Sort of. Very few people remember the olden age, and even less remember the majority of the dragons of our plane, but, apparently, there used to be this order, this faction, of draconic beings called the Order of Light. Kind of a pretentious name, but I doubt anyone makes fun when you're a bloody dragon. Anyway, they had some kind of moral code, and they basically sound like they were self-righteous church-goers of the draconic variety, but they also had really advanced white mana spells."

She took a deep breath and sighed. "Have you ever heard of a spell called "echo"?"

Sorin frowned heavily. "It is some kind of haunting spell, is it not? To lock a mortal spirit to the living plane even once the body has gone? I was under the impression that it was only hypothetical."

"Exactly, only. . . they managed it. Somehow. Or one of them did."

"So, you're saying that there is a spirit of one of these Light Dragons still around? Today? How could you not tell me this?"

"He made me promise not to tell anyone," Raven squealed. "And he already didn't like me because I was a vampire. I didn't want to piss him off even more, cause, you know, he was a bloody dragon."

"Spirit," Sorin corrected with a heavy sigh as he returned to his seat. "Where is this dragon now?"

"He was hidden somewhere in Nephalia."

"Fantastic," he muttered sarcastically.

"I'll mark the location on one of your maps." She paused. "Sorry I didn't tell you."

He snorted, "It's understandable, I suppose. And I probably wouldn't much have cared before this."

"So. . . what's next?" Raven tried. "What are you going to do about Kaelynn?"

"She wants to be a hero. I'll convince her that the only way to save the world is to heal the damage done to all Planeswalkers' Sparks. She'll do anything, including give her own life." He snorted, "She's so gullible and suicidal that it will probably take very little effort on my part."

"There's a difference between being gullible and trusting you."

"I don't really see how; they're both indicative of being a moron."

Raven rolled her eyes. "That's it then? You're just going to let her die?"

"Did you really think I would do anything different?"

"At least talk to the dragon first. Maybe he can find another way."

"As you pointed out, I've already waited long enough to talk with you. Bolas' plans are coming to their climax, and I need to finish this." He sighed, "I need to get off this bloody plane."

Raven arched an eyebrow, "Oh?"

He glanced briefly at her, and then smirked bemusedly, "I spent all of last night reworking the wards on that door. This is why I don't stay here much."

Raven frowned, sitting back down on his desk. "Speaking of the wards, did you find out how he was talking to her?"

"Not the slightest clue. They weren't any more unraveled than they usually are. It should have been weeks- months!- before he had any access to the outside world." He sighed heavily, leaning back in the wooden chair and staring off into space. "Sometimes I wonder why I even bother coming back here."

"It's home," Raven responded simply. "And no matter how shitty of a home it was, it's still home."

Sorin looked for a moment like he might argue with that, but then he just sighed. "I suppose perhaps you are right."

"Anyway, why desert a plane you've already put so much work into, right? I mean, you created an angel for god's sake." She paused. "Speaking of which, where is Avy?"

Sorin frowned. "Who?"

"Uh, Avy? You know, she's got white hair, massive wings? An aura of truth and justice?"

He rolled his eyes. "Since when do you call my angelic creation "Avy"?"

"Since when do you call her your angelic creation?"

Sorin sighed. "Raven."

"Where is she?"

"Elsewhere; I don't keep close tabs."

"Has she met Kaelynn? I think they would get along."

"Not officially, and I don't really give a damn if they would or not. I'm going to manipulate her into killing herself for me, Raven, I seriously doubt that Avacyn would approve."

"You could always not force her to kill herself," Raven muttered.

Sorin glared.

"Yeah, alright." She stood, holding her hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I'm gonna go talk to your little tool, assuming she's not still terribly traumatized from her conversation with your. . . pet."

Sorin just exhaled heavily as Raven clicked her way out of his study, and he pulled open a drawer on his desk to reveal a book filled with all the numerous wards he had on the door to the western wing. As he removed it, a small portrait fell out of the back of the book and landed on his desk.

The Vampire Lord stared for a long moment at the picture, a feeling of deep unease settling in his gut. Then his eyes hardened, and he crumpled it up in his hand before disintegrating it with a flash of black mana.

_**0-0-0-0-0** _

_The good guys win_.

Those remembered words echoed through Kaelynn's mind as she tried to sleep, tossing and turning in her bed. The kindly woman with black hair had moved her to her room, and she had passed out shortly afterward. Her dreams had been surprisingly peaceful, though she didn't entirely remember them. Just that they involved her grandfather, who she hadn't actually ever known, with long black hair dressed in a frilly white shirt with an ankle length black coat.

Since she had woken without realising why in the middle of the night, her mind had been in turmoil, and she had been unable to return to sleep.

_Just wipe away the Blood Rune. That is all._

The whispers were spoken in the grandfatherly voice as they ran repeatedly through her mind, haunting her every thought and keeping her from slipping back into darkness. Something was drawing her towards that doorway, drawing her back to the western wing.

Sorin had clearly not wanted her anywhere near there, but Sorin was the bad guy. He had lied to her, deceived even the great Archangel Avacyn. Whoever was being that door was a friend. He would help her.

Kaelynn rolled over again- right off the bed. She held out her hands to break her fall with a wince, and then collapsed on the carpet with a sigh.

_He is a bad person, and I want to stop him._

She pushed herself into an upright position and wrapped a robe around herself before wandering out into the halls.

_I am your friend._

Abigail had been her friend. Kaleb had been her friend. They were both dead now.

_Just wipe away the Blood Rune. That is all._

So simple; so easy. She could free him and get him out before Sorin found them. If he decided to kill her, well. . . she deserved worse. But she could finally save one of her friends. She could finally make a difference.

The hallway grew nearer, but it wasn't until she was face to face with the door and the rune carved upon it that she realised she had nothing to use to get rid of the rune.

 _You came back,_ the voice murmured in her mind again, and Kaelynn reveled in the warmth of Grandfather's tone.

"Of course," she whispered back, not wanting to draw the attention of the master of the house, wherever he was. She lifted her robe and tried to wipe away the blood, but the fabric just slid along the rough wood of the door. "Damn it," she cursed softly, the voice of her brother for once not rising in her mind to berate her for swearing.

_It only needs to be broken._

Oh. She could do that. "Thank you," she whispered, fervently grateful. She chipped away at the wood and dried blood with her nail, a small fraction of it falling to the floor. Encouraged, she did so again, then with both hands, ignoring the pain and the wood chips biting into her skin. Her nails broke and her fingers left streaks of blood on the doorway as she clawed at it almost frantically, but, eventually, she broke the circle.

A flash of light shone brightly in her face for a moment as the rune was broken, and she winced away from it. As it faded and her eyesight recovered, she found herself faced with- an ordinary door. With a rusted, bronze colored handle that hadn't been there previously.

The voice in her mind was gone, and Kaelynn was left alone.

Her hand moving as though in slow motion, she reached out and turned the handle.

The door opened with a soft click.


	12. Is She Alive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I feel like most of you have probably already figured this out, but just in case I think I should state it outright. I am not and do not follow cannon anything. The world, ideas, and magic that I portray here is just out of my own head. If I accidentally stumble upon any cannon behaviors of the characters, that is purely by chance because I have read a grand total of one of the stories written by the Wizards of the Coasts people, and it did not have Sorin in it. I hope that you like my story anyway. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Obviously, I do not own or profit from any of the MTG characters or places in this story. The variables of magic that I have introduced and my OCs are mine.

The first thing Kaelynn noticed upon entry to the forbidden, locked up wing of the manor was the painting. When she had been a child, that same massive portrait had hung in the main hall, but it had no longer been there when Sorin had first taken her. She didn't miss its presence in the slightest, for the thing had always unnerved her, haunting her dreams as a little girl even from the fleeting glimpse that she had gotten through a window.

The painting depicted an adolescent boy with tossed silver hair. He was dressed in fine linens, but over them he wore a long, dusty black coat that somewhat marred the perfect image of royalty. He was not smiling in the portrait; in fact, he looked just about the opposite of happy, his expression glowering and sour as he glared sullenly out of the wall.

It was Sorin. Kaelynn had little doubts to that fact, even though the boy in the painting had blue eyes instead of the golden ones of the Sorin she knew. He even wore the same bloody coat, even if it was too big for him in the painting, and actually seemed to be in better condition now. Perhaps he'd had it fixed on one of his journeys.

As odd as it was to see the Vampire Lord as a fifteen-year-old boy, that was not the unnerving part of the picture. Standing behind him, and a little to his left, was another man. He was considerably taller, with long, silky black hair brushed back neatly away from his face. He wore the same clothing of nobility that could be seen on Sorin, only he wore it with a pompous attitude. His own long black coat was made of the finest material and was in such good condition that it may as well have been his very first day wearing it. He stood behind Sorin and rested a single, long-fingered, pale hand on the boy's shoulder. Something about the possessiveness of the action, something about the impassiveness of his expression, something about the pitch black eyes gazing out of the wall made Kaelynn shiver.

The background of the painting was a room similar to Sorin's own study, but it wasn't the same room; Kaelynn could tell. No, this was a room she had never before seen, though that didn't mean much. She hadn't investigated much of the castle during her time there.

Despite immediately drawing her attention because of her recognition of the portrait, it didn't keep her eyes long, for across the hall from that disturbing picture was another, this one completely foreign to Kaelynn's eyes.

It had been painted in the same unknown study room as the previous one, for an identical large black chair loomed in the background of both. This picture, however, held only a single figure. It was a young woman, probably the same age as Sorin had been when his portrait had been painted, only she was taller than he. Her pale face was beautiful and regal, and she had long silver hair, sleek and shimmering, that was swept back away from her face. Her blue eyes were kind and compassionate, and a soft, gentle smile rested on her perfect red lips. In appearance, she was the exact mirror of Sorin, but in posture, the two couldn't have been more different.

Kaelynn stared at this painting for a very long while, even though it forced her to turn her back to the black eyes of the stranger in the other portrait. Who was she? The immediate answer was that they were somehow related, and Kaelynn wondered if maybe this was his mother painted when she was young. The gentle smile on her lips did seem somewhat paternal. But why was it locked away here? And who was the man in the picture with Sorin? His father, perhaps? If so, she felt rather bad for the young boy in the painting.

Ever so slowly, she moved past the two portraits in the hallway and into the room at the end, which held only a gently twisting staircase carpeted in red that went up to the true western wing of the castle.

Kaelynn slowly ascended the stairs one step at a time. A strange pressure had come to reside in her chest as she mounted the staircase, and with each step that she took, it increased, restricting her throat and making each breath more difficult than the last. When she finally reached the top, she was confronted by a long narrow hallway clothed in shadows and darkness. It seemed to be somehow distorted, and although there were a few other doors on the sides, her attention was focused only on the single door at the end of the hall.

Her feet moved forward before she had even begun to command them to do so, carrying her ever closer to that thick, looming door. The shadows around her moved and shifted, and something moved past her leg making her shiver violently, yet her voice would not work to allow her to scream. There were things in the darkness, whispering to her as she walked, and her heart pounded within her chest. Every instinct told her to turn and run, but her feet kept moving inexplicably forward.

 _Don't be afraid_ , the remembered words came to her mind, but they were no longer comforting. They rang dull in Kaelynn's ears, and within her mind she wondered how she had been so foolish to ever believe them. Something had slipped into her mind, and now she was paying the price for allowing them control.

Maybe Sorin would come save her. But, no, he probably thought she was still in bed sleeping. If he hadn't already prevented her from getting this far, it was unlikely he even knew she had managed to get inside the previous door. After all, it had been secured with a vast variety of wards. She wondered how, indeed, she had been able to get inside.

Her feet carried her up to the door, and her own pale hand came up to push it open, even while she mentally screamed at herself not to do so. She didn't know what was in that frigid room; she didn't know what was hiding in the dark, but she had gotten enough of her common sense back to know that it wasn't a kindly old grandfather.

The door swung open and her feet carried her over the threshold into the darkness.

"It's the same room," Kaelynn blurted, her voice suddenly working again. She flinched as soon as the words left her lips, but it was true. This was the room from the painting; the study that looked rather like Sorin's, but wasn't.

The walls were covered in wood paneling, while the carpet was a dull burgundy color with golden designs and patterns traced upon it. There was an unlit hearth on the left wall that seemed like it resonated cold rather than heat; hanging above it was another portrait done in that room, this time depicting only the black haired man from the picture with Sorin. Bookshelves lined most of the right wall, and there was a large tapestry on the wall opposite the door. A desk was pulled away from the same, sitting almost in the center of the room, with the black chair from all the paintings resting behind it. The chair was not empty.

There was a man sitting in the large, black, leather chair that somewhat resembled a throne- or, at least, there had once been a man there. What it was now, Kaelynn didn't know. His hair was long, stringy and gray, falling out in patches across his skull. Rather than a face, he looked as though he were just a skull, for instead of eyes he had only sockets, no ears were visible, and his skin was ashen gray. It appeared to be a corpse, and a very, very old one at that. But why keep a corpse locked up like this?

Her answer came when it moved.

The skull head tipped backwards, its empty sockets boring into her soul, and it raised cracked and dry arms to steeple boney fingers in front of its face as it rested its elbows on the desk with many a creak and groan.

Kaelynn recoiled violently, shock and fear finally breaking whatever spell had been placed on her as she clawed at the door that had at some point closed behind her with her bleeding fingers. It wouldn't open. Despite swinging inwards at her touch to admit her, now the door simply would not budge.

There was further cracking from the moving skeleton at the desk behind her, and then a raspy voice echoed within the chambers. "Please, don't go. I need your help."

Kaelynn froze at the sound of the voice, and turned slowly, her entire body trembling in fear, to look at the monster. "Who. . . . _What_ are you?"

"My name was once Edgar Markov," the creature hissed, its jaw clicking as it spoke, "but now I am a mere echo of what I once was."

"Edgar. . . Markov?" Kaelynn repeated, stunned. "You're related to Sorin?"

"I am his grandfather," the skeleton wheezed.

How could it wheeze? Did it have lungs?

"His grandfather," she repeated, still in shock. "Why would he lock you up here?"

"I didn't lie to you, little one. I was trying to stop him, but he locked me up here instead. I need your help to escape."

"You? You were the voice inside my head?"

The skeleton nodded sagely- or at least he tried. It was probably a difficult thing to do when every movement was jerky and heralded by many creaks and groans. "Yes. I need your help."

She was wary, but it was hard to be overly threatened by something that couldn't even move. "How can I help you? How can you do anything?"

"Come," the old man tried, his voice growing weaker. "Please, come."

Slowly, carefully, she edged around the room towards the skeletal figure that claimed to be Sorin's grandfather. She stopped moving about three feet away from him.

"Closer. Please." His voice had grown even weaker, and Kaelynn couldn't help but feel compassion for the broken creature in the chair. Still, she really didn't want to get any closer.

"I can hear you from here."

He coughed. "Yes, I suppose you can." In a flash of movement, the skeleton was up from the chair with one of his bony arms locked around her neck.

Kaelynn screamed as his breath, smelling of pollution and decay, washed over her face.

"Thank you, little one," he hissed, sounding a lot stronger than he had before. Then there was a sharp pain in her neck, and Kaelynn screamed again.

_**0-0-0-0-0** _

Sorin was still staring off into the distance when Raven suddenly burst back into his study.

"She's gone!"

Sorin pivoted on his chair, arching an eyebrow at her, "What?"

"Kaelynn. She's not in her room."

The Vampire Lord frowned heavily, "That shouldn't be possible. I ordered her not to leave until I came back."

"Well, she's not there."

Sorin stood immediately and both of them left the study. He cast out his mind, looking for any broken wards or tripped alarms, hoping that she wasn't foolish enough to have gone to the eastern wing where some of his guests resided. Most of them would kill her without blinking, Vale perhaps being the singular exception.

What he found, however, was far worse.

"The Blood Rune is broken," he breathed, stunned.

Raven inhaled sharply, but whatever words she may have said were lost as Sorin ran at a flat out run to the western staircase. He ignored the paintings on the walls, as much as they brought back bad memories, and raced up the staircase. The door was open.

Edgar, returned to his full glory such as that which was seen in the painting on his wall, was standing in the study over Kaelynn's pale body, his fangs covered in blood, and when Sorin dashed through the door he let her fall carelessly to the ground. "Sorin," he murmured, his voice quiet, soothing, laced with the mesmer that had undoubtedly convinced the girl to free him. "I'm home, my boy."

Sorin growled, showing his fangs as he summoned his greatsword with a flash of mana.

Edgar laughed, his black eyes reflecting the moon outside through a hole where the hearth had once been. He turned briefly to stare up at the sky, eyes drifting shut as he basked in the light. "So long since I have tasted human flesh; so long since I have felt the light of the moon." He turned back to Sorin, "You should not treat the man who raised you so."

"The man who raised me?" Sorin echoed, disbelief radiating through his words. "You call what you did "raising me"?"

"I gave you everything," Edgar hissed. "I gave you power; I gave you immortality! I saved you from a life lived viewing the world from a bed!"

"You killed me," Sorin responded flatly, his voice emotionless.

"I gave you true life!" He launched himself across the room at the younger Planeswalker, who sidestepped the attack.

Edgar caught Sorin's wrist in a cold grip, black mana seeping through his wards and sending pain up through his arm.

Sorin reflexively dropped the blade, which vanished in a flash of white mana, before using Edgar's grip to pull him into the wall.

Edgar growled and launched himself at him again, only for Sorin to grab his arm and throw him backwards across the room with careless ease.

Edgar landed near the hole in the wall and slowly stood, chuckling. "You've definitely not been idle these last thousand years." He turned back to the moon, a faint smile on his lips. "Come with me, Sorin. Together, the three of us could put an end to this little-" He froze. "Why can I not sense her?" Edgar Markov turned back to Sorin, his black eyes wide and his face twisted in rage. "What did you do with her?"

Sorin adjusted one of his gloves carelessly. "I killed her."

Edgar snarled, and a sudden wave of pure black mana shattered out from him and slammed into the silver-haired vampire, throwing him back against the wall. Edgar was on him in less than a second, hand on his throat as he screamed in fury and rage. "Liar! What did you do with her? Where is she?"

Sorin conjured his sword in one of his hands behind Edgar and prepared to stab him in the back. "No where you will ever find her." He brought the blade towards him, but Edgar shattered into a cloud of bats that fled into the night sky.

Sorin watched him go with a cold, furious gaze before calling out through the blood link he had with Raven. _Come_.

She was there in a moment, immediately rushing to Kaelynn's side. "Avacyn's wings, what happened?"

"He escaped," Sorin told her curtly. "Is she alive?"

There was silence for a long moment.

"Is she alive?!" Sorin repeated, shouting this time.

Raven looked up at him carefully, her eyes sorrowful. "No. She's not."

_**0-0-0-0-0** _

Edgar reformed not far from the Manor that had once belonged to him, falling to the ground. He was still weak from his extended imprisonment at his grandson's hand and draining one girl had not been enough. He struggled to his feet using a tree for support as he glared back up at his home. No matter what Sorin said, he hadn't killed her. Regardless of how time had changed him, there would always be a bit of that stupid, weakling boy who couldn't bear the sight of blood left inside of him. Sorin couldn't have killed her.

The true Master of Markov Manor smiled coldly at the surety of the knowledge. No, she was still out there somewhere, waiting for him, for them, and once he had her, it wouldn't matter how powerful his grandson had gotten. The world would be theirs, and he could either join them or fall with the rest of the pathetic humans and feral monsters. In the end, it would be only them in the paradise they would build.

But Sorin would see. Edgar was certain of that as well. He would see, and they wouldn't have to kill him. Once he found her, Sorin would see. He never had been able to deny her.

Edgar struggled through the undergrowth until a figure in plate armor stepped out of the darkness. He stumbled when he walked, his feet and legs stiff, not bending at the joints. His middle-aged face was sunken and hollow, the sightless eyes gazing out as though from a corpse. His armor held some sort of signet, symbol, but beyond the pattern making it look as though it were part of some church, Edgar didn't recognise it. No doubt it came from a new order that had sprung up in his absence.

The vampire turned to face the stranger, uncertain who this new threat was.

"Hello, Edgar," a familiar dark voice spoke from out of a human mouth, and Edgar had to fight to maintain his composure and not simply break down laughing.

"You," Edgar greeted him simply, warily, keeping his amusement under control.

"I knew you had escaped," the possessed man continued, even though his body was in the process of decaying as he spoke. "This one was stupid enough to come for me for information. And High Inquisitors are supposed to be the smart ones," he mused.

"You were imprisoned as well?" Edgar had no idea what a High Inquisitor was, but he could guess. In the end, it would hardly matter. Whoever he had been and whomever he served, they were weak, human, and mortal.

"By the Church of Avacyn," the corpse spat. "There is much you do not know. Your grandson is a traitor to his own kind. He created an angel."

"Created an angel?" Edgar echoed, suddenly wondering just how much Sorin's power had grown. "How is that even possible?"

"No one knows for certain, but he must have had aid."

"But who here with that kind of power would aid him in the creation of an angel?" Edgar mused.

"Such has been the mystery long discussed, yet no one has been able to find answers," the demon responded. There was a brief pause. "Now, come. You need to regain your strength and learn about this new world. Innistrad has changed greatly over time."

Edgar scoffed even as he took a step towards his old servant. "Nothing really changes. Not ever. Not truly. You and I are the same we were thousands of years ago. And so is Sorin."

"Perhaps," the fiend said quietly, as he began to lead the way through the dark. "But maybe you didn't know him as well as you think you did."

"He is weak," Edgar growled. "He always has been. Fragile and useless in comparison to the rest of us." He suddenly breathed a laugh, "He couldn't even kill her! The one who could fell his world in a single motion, the one who could destroy his angel and steal Innistrad from him in the blink of an eye, and he didn't have the strength to end her! The greatest threat to his empire." Edgar scoffed. "He is weak."

There was a brief pause as the demon continued to lead him through the darkened patch of trees. "As you say."

The pair of them reached the edge of the forest, and Edgar laid his eyes on the town of Wollebank.

"Now, my master, recover your strength."


	13. Liar

"Hello, child.”

The young girl opened her eyes slowly, frowning at the soft glow of white that surrounded her. She felt as though she were lying, floating, on soft white feathers immersed in the gentle light of dawn. It was an indescribable of feeling of completion, of peace.

There was no one else there with her, in the light, but the light itself was a woman, and the woman was speaking to her with a voice as soft, gentle, and refreshing as a summer breeze.

“Kaelynn,” the light said. It was a name, a name that reminded the girl of something. The name reminded her of fire and darkness, of a flash of silver hair, and of pain.

The girl lying on the white, feathery wings cowered away from that name, away from the darkness.

“Do not be afraid,” the light whispered softly, and she caressed the girl’s naked skin with a warm, gentle breeze.

“Who are you?” the girl asked quietly, uncertain as to the use of her own voice.

“I am Purity; I am Innocence; I am Chastity,” the light responded. “I am the Light of Dawn. I am the Warmth of the New Spring Sun. I am the Gentle Summer Breeze. I am the Peace that Follows Death. I am Restoration; I am Healing. I am.”

The girl sat in silence for a long moment. “Who am I?”

A soft laugh echoed throughout and from the light, flowing over the naked girl like a wave of temperate water. “Mine,” the light responded simply. “You are my vessel, my chosen one, and never has there been a better chosen.”

“I. . . don’t understand.”

“You will.” There was silence for a long time. Then the light sighed. “You must go now; return, to the land of the living. Remember who you are, Kaelynn.”

Again, the name brought back memories, and the girl cringed. “I don’t want to go back.”

The breeze smoothed back the child’s hair, as though it were a gentle hand. “You have carried such sorrow and responsibility for so long, yet within you are still yet a child. Awaken, Kaelynn, my Kaelynn, and let your burdens go. The deaths of those whose lives you have not taken do not dwell on your hands. You have never murdered. You are my innocence, my purity, the youth of a child, but no longer. You must now be my wisdom, my understanding, my knowledge. Let the child dwell within, but let the woman stand without. Take the power that has ever been yours.

“Awaken, my Kaelynn, and bring my light to a world overflowing with darkness.”

**_0-0-0-0-0_ **

“She’s dead,” Sorin stated blankly, staring down at the girl’s useless corpse.

Raven stood slowly, looking at him with wide blue eyes. “Yes.”

Sorin huffed a sudden sigh. “Take her back to her room and put her on the bed. I’ll take care of the corpse later.” He turned to leave.

Raven arched an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“For now, yes.”

“So, your shitty undead grandfather has escaped, your key to defeating Bolas is dead, and you just want me to put her on her bed?” Raven summarized, aghast.

“Would you rather I disintegrated her corpse on the spot?”

“I would rather there be some kind of. . . reaction. This is a nightmare; not two hours ago, you were telling me just how annoying it was to find her. Now you have nothing!”

“You think I am unaware of that?” he snapped, growling, and suddenly whirling back on Raven with anger flashing in his golden eyes.

“I think you need to snap out of your bloody denial and admit that you have feelings for her!”

Sorin recoiled in surprise, but his expression quickly turned into a blank, cold stare. “She was nothing but a tool,” he growled.

“I don’t believe you.”

He suddenly scoffed. “What does it matter regardless? She’s dead now.”   


“Because maybe if I can get you to admit it this time, next time you won’t wait so long. She was never just a tool to you.”   


“No,” he finally admitted, his eyes on the floor. “She was a memory.”

“Maybe at the beginning, but she became something more,” Raven pushed.

“What the hell does it matter now? She’s dead!” he repeated.

“You didn’t kill her,” Raven suddenly declared.

“Didn’t I?” He breathed a mirthless laugh. “I would have.”

“I don’t believe that.”   


“Then you are a fool.”

“You loved her.”

His lips twisted into a bitter smile. “It wouldn’t be the first time I killed someone I loved.”

“That. . . that was different,” Raven whispered.

“Please tell me you are not that naive. I murdered in cold blood someone who had meant more to me than the world in order to preserve my race. Do you really think I wouldn’t have killed a girl for whom I had fleeting feelings to save myself?” He moved closer to Raven, gazing down at her wide blue eyes. “This isn’t some kind of fairy tail of the likes you hear on the various planes. Love isn’t some kind of mystical force. It’s something that binds only the living.”   


“That’s bullshit and you know it. We are just as capable of feeling love as anyone else.”

“Are we really? Do you know what I was like before I was turned? I was a sickly, frail, romantic, who spent my days in dreams of my own creation. I was prepared to die before I reached thirty, because such was my lot in life, and I was content with that. Then Edgar created a formula and shoved it down my throat, and I killed the entire town in one night with my bare hands.”

“Being turned doesn’t change who we are.”

“So I was always a vicious murderer?”   


“It’s not the same when you’re a newborn. You’re not like that now.”

“I wasn’t a newborn when I killed Ava. And, for that matter, she wasn’t a newborn when she killed the man she had been intending to marry.”

“Just because both of you chose to put power before love isn’t the fault of being turned. If that’s the sort of person you are, Sorin, than that’s who you are. You don’t get to blame the bastard who raised you for your choices!” Raven snapped.

He grabbed her by her throat and slammed her back into the wall, the wood splintering under the force of the blow.

“We always have a choice,” she whispered.

He released her, and she collapsed, coughing. “You’re right,” he responded flatly. “We do. And I’ve made mine.” He walked through the doorway.

“Why would you give her up? Why would you have sacrificed another woman that you loved and have to live with that pain? For power?”

Sorin hesitated, not turning around. “For survival.” Then he was gone.

“Better to live with their blood on your conscience than not live at all,” Raven summarised bitterly to the empty room. She reached down and lifted the corpse of poor, innocent girl, stroking her hair back briefly from her face.

“Liar.”

**_0-0-0-0-0_ **

Wollebank was demolished. Corpses lay strewn about the main street carelessly, staining the ground with their spilled blood. Their faces were all contorted grotesquely, forever frozen in terrible visages of undiluted fear. Many had limbs and heads torn from the main body and left amidst the carnage. Some of the houses were burning, their thatched roofs set aflame like massive beacons crying out for help to the impotent gods. Meanwhile, in the distance, the sheep still let loose their continual bleating cries of frantic terror, the sound shattering the eerie serenity of the starkly horrific scene.   


Jared looked around in stunned silence, unable even to frame and expel a curse for several long moments.

A hand suddenly clutched at the hem of his pants, and the Templar jolted, hand fleeing to grasp the hilt of his sword as he looked down.

Jared’s hand froze where it rested, his knuckles turning white with the grip wherewith he they clenched around the handle, for the fingers that weakly brushed his skin belonged to a woman who had not yet realised herself to be but a corpse.

Her singular arm, for the other was but a bleeding stump, was attached to only a torso cut off at the waist; there were no other limbs. Her sunken, hollow, and pale face was but a skull, and there was no light in her empty, clouded gaze. Yet from between thin white lips came an unholy moan of that from beyond the grave. That inhuman sound caused Jared to shudder once in pure fear as the voice resonated through the silent town. For that one moment, even the sheep stopped their infernal racket.

“Help us. Please, help us,” the dead woman whispered, the moan ending in that simple plea before the echo of life left her body and she slumped forward.

Jared moved swiftly away from the collapsed fragment of the corpse, his breathing unsteady. This was just. . . wrong.

Standing in the midst of what had once been the town square were two figures. The first was the stiff, possessed corpse of the former High Inquisitor Jeremiah, Jared’s formerly useful pawn. The second was unknown to him. He was dressed in clothing that looked as though it may once have been fine, but had long since been corrupted by age. It was speckled with many wears in the cloth, stained and moth-eaten. The man himself had thick black hair of a longer length that was blowing freely in the wind, but when he turned to face the approaching Templar, Jared saw that his eyes were a pure, blood red all the way through as he gazed hungrily at the man.

Teeth flashed, the figure of the vampire aristocrat blurred, and Jared barely had time to raise his sword in defense before the ancient creature was upon him with a snarl, the blood and guts smeared across his lips and clothing revealing his part in the destruction that had come to the village.

The force of the attack caused Jared to reel backwards a few steps, but between his blessed blade and the holy water that covered his skin he managed to keep the fiend at bay. “Who are you? This is Markov’s territory; why have you invaded like this?”

The vampire laughed, long and low deep in his throat. “Markov’s territory,” he mused, “soon all of Innistrad will be Markov’s territory.”

Jared frowned. This was utterly unlike the calculated actions that Sorin Markov was known to make. For a vampire, he had always seemed oddly mindful of collateral damage, never completely wiping out the population in an area, always leaving enough for the humans to struggle on. The Templar had always wondered if he got a perverted pleasure out of crushing their hope again and again. “Who are you?” he repeated, keeping his sword at the ready while adrenaline coursed through his veins.

“Markov,” the vampire responded simply, “and I am here to bring in a new era- the Age of the Vampire.” He growled and launched himself once again at Jared.

With a flash of white mana, Jared pulled a shield around him and used it to defend himself from the assault. “You do not work for Markov,” Jared growled, taking a gamble.

The vampire snarled. “No, I do not work for him; I  **am** Markov! The only true bearer of my family’s name. That that foolish boy would cast such a pallor upon his house. . . .” His voice trailed off into mindless muttering. “I am the only true Markov!” he declared once more after a moment.

“You have another name?” Jared finally asked flatly, somewhat annoyed.

“Edgar,” said someone, and Jared gave a slight jump. He had entirely forgotten about the corpse of Jeremiah and whatever being had inhabited it. “Just call him Edgar; it will make everything less complicated.”

The being had deep, dark voice that resonated with power. It sounded bored and almost apathetic in such a way that never could have been mistaken for the zealous Inquisitor whose body it now inhabited.

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” Jared offered, wondering what it was, exactly, he was going to have to fight and kill.

The thing inside Jeremiah laughed rather loudly, the sound sending a shiver through the Templar. “Not properly,” it agreed. “I am known by many names across many times and ages long past, but this one calls me Shilgengar.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jared offered; he had never heard of that particular demon, but then, he hadn’t really paid much attention to the church classes. Regardless of how powerful it was, he was going to have to kill it, and he did his best to formulate a plan to do so.

“Yes, it was,” Shilgengar agreed, before a sudden wave of black mana crashed into Jared, draining the life from him with a surprising amount of speed.

The thing inside Jeremiah’s body didn’t even glance at him, examining the broken statue in the center of the ruined town instead while the Templar writhed in pain, his life slipping out from him. He couldn’t even draw in a breath.

There was a burst of white mana suddenly from around him, and Shilgengar’s gaze snapped up with narrowed eyes as a holy shield of white, black, and red swirled around Jared.

The power of Tariel, Reckoner of Souls, burst forth from within their joined mind, and the angel herself materialised in front of him moments later in all her fiery glory, her blade drawn and directed towards the vampire and demon.

“Huh,” Shilgengar suddenly mused, “that’s interesting.”

Edgar, the vampire, gave out a loud snarl and moved as though to foolishly attack the angelic being, but he suddenly froze and then collapsed, wisps of black mana evaporating from his prone form. The demon didn’t even look at him.

Shilgengar tilted the head of the body he had stolen at the glorious, yet immobile angel. “You are fascinating.”

Tariel snarled. “Leave this place now, foul fiend.”

“Gladly,” the demon responded without hesitation, and suddenly the vampire vanished in a puff of black smoke. “It was indeed most enlightening to meet you, Templar.” Then he disappeared as well.

The shield vanished from around Jared, and he pulled in great gusts of air, slipping to the ground. Tariel hovered, still glaring at the point where they monstrosities had vanished.

“They have plans,” Jared commented once he had caught his breath.

“They wish to rule this plane,” Tariel spat. “It is mine.”

“Then we best move quickly,” Jared responded, standing and gazing at the broken statue. “We’ll start with the girl.”

**_0-0-0-0-0_ **

Distorted voices echoed around her, a baby screamed, there was blood gushing out on the ground in front of her, the body of someone she loved rested in her arms, and someone screamed again. There was a kindly voice and safe arms, flowing blonde hair, a flash of red, not blood, but it became blood, and then the gaze of warm golden eyes. Another voice, incomprehensible, but far too loud, echoed through her mind, only to be met by another, softer, female response. Footsteps sounded across her mind, followed by more softly spoken words.

Then there was silence and peace for a few blessed moments before a new voice came, this time infinitely louder, the sound of it cutting through the muddled fog that seemed to have fallen on her senses. “Wake up!” There was a flash of white light.

Kaelynn jerked awake, startled and breathing heavily, swallowing repeatedly to moisten her dry throat. She licked her lips slowly as memories returned. Many of them hit her hard, and there was a fair portion of her that wanted to curl into a ball and just sob, but that part of her was much outweighed by the part that now knew what it was doing. All her life, Kaelynn had known that her purpose was to heal people; now she understood why.

Her limbs were uncooperative at first, pin pricks and needles going through her legs as she tried to move them, but with a little patience she eventually managed to get herself into a standing position. Her dress was stained with her own blood, and she made a face, but now was really not the time to change. She was exceptionally pale, even more so than normal, and she momentarily fancied herself to look like a ghost as she caught a fleeting glimpse in the mirror.

Step after step carried her ever closer to the door, and she slowly managed to grasp the knob and pull it inward. Every motion seemed to remind her body as to its purpose and made the following actions easier and less stiff. By the time she made it to the main library, where she somehow knew Sorin would be, she was almost back to normal.

The Vampire Lord was sitting at a desk, the fringes of his silver hair falling into his face, and he absent-mindedly swiped them back as he studied the book in front of him with a somber, intense expression. There was evidence of some kind of struggle, or, perhaps, some kind of tantrum, as papers were strewn about carelessly and a bottle of ink was overturned on the floor, the black seeping into one of the forgotten papers and being absorbed.

Kaelynn paused in the doorway, one of the papers catching her attention in particular, and she lifted it to stare surprised at an image of herself. It was done with simple tools, sketched simply with charcoal by the looks of it, but it was a very good representation- if she had been beautiful and regal. It portrayed her like a princess, all in black and white, lovely as she sat gracefully upon a chair that might as well have been a throne. She stared in surprise at the image before a slight smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

“I didn’t know you drew,” she commented into the silence, probably enjoying the vampire’s startled and shocked reaction a bit too much.

He stood rather slowly for a vampire, but then in the space of one of her blinks he was suddenly right in front of her, his eyes darting over her carefully as he examined her. “You’re a ghost,” he finally said, sounding almost annoyed.

She was amused, and reached out to take his hand just to prove to him she had solid form. “No.”

He frowned. “A vampire?” He sounded far from thrilled at the prospect.

“No,” Kaelynn responded again, smiling gently, partially in reaction and partially to show him the lack of fangs.

His eyes narrowed. “You can’t be a zombie.” He didn’t sound quite certain, and she giggled softly.

“Decidedly not.” She tightened her grip on his hand. She wasn’t afraid anymore. “The goddess brought me back.”

Sorin arched an eyebrow, understandably skeptical. “The goddess?”

“Iylaria, Arya’s patron,” she explained slightly. “She kept me safe beyond death, and then sent me back.”

“Why?”

“To heal,” she responded simply. “I know that I am the Purest Soul for which you’ve been searching. I also know that you don’t understand how the relic works, so let me tell you. I must die. In order to release the full extent of its power, an act of sacrifice must be done.”

“No, you don’t,” Sorin immediately countered, pulling his hand from his grasp as though only now realising where it was. “At least, there’s a chance you don’t. Raven knows of the spirit of a dragon that might have answers.”

“There is no alternative,” Kaelynn responded confidently, her brow furrowing. “Why would there be?”

“Why send you back just to kill you again?”

“Not kill me. Sacrifice isn’t the same thing.”

“Well, there might be a way around it regardless. Shouldn’t you at least cover all your bases?”

“Why would you bother? This is what you’ve been after the whole time. Isn’t it?” Kaelynn gazed at him steadily with her unnerving green eyes.

Sorin shifted slightly. “I’d rather not sacrifice my access to that power if it can be avoided.”

“Did you always know?” Kaelynn suddenly asked, pressing on a point she had just discovered. “Is that why you saved me that first day?”

“I told you, that was a whim.”

“You’re a control freak; you don’t do things on whims.”

“I’m a vampire; we’re notoriously hedonistic.”

“But you didn’t get anything out of saving me. At least, not at first.”

“Maybe I followed you to Wollebank.”

“You didn’t. You were there before me; that’s why the villagers were all so frightened when I arrived.”

“It wouldn’t have been that hard to guess where you would go.”

“I could have gone to Silbern. You weren’t aware of my distaste for the Church then.”

Sorin rolled his eyes. “This is a pointless conversation. I saved you on a whim.”

Kaelynn placed the sketch carefully down on his desk. “And this? Was this a whim?”

There was a long moment of silence, Kaelynn’s eyes locked on the Vampire Lord, studying his every reaction, while Sorin’s gaze was glued to the drawing. When he finally answered, he did so without looking away from it.

“No.”


	14. I Don't Care

“And this?” Kaelynn asked, putting the sketch of herself gently down on the vampire’s desk. “Was this a whim?”

Sorin’s eyes locked on the picture and remained there as he answered softly. “No.” When she gasped, he lifted his cool golden eyes and evenly met her own. “No, it was not.”

As Kaelynn tried and failed to find her voice, mostly shocked by the fact that he was admitting it, Sorin continued to gaze at her with eyes so deep she feared she could lose herself within them. His hand came up and gently tucked strands of her hair behind her ear before cupping her face.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as he tilted her chin up to meet his lips.

“Holy shit!” Raven suddenly exclaimed as she rounded the corner and entered the library. “You were dead!”

Sorin sighed, dropping his hand and taking a half-step back from Kaelynn so that he was no longer in her immediate proximity before turning to face Raven with an annoyed expression. “Yes, we’ve already gone through that. Where, exactly, in Nephalia did you find that dragon?”

Raven frowned, more than a little thrown, her eyes darting back and forth between Kaelynn and Sorin before she answered slowly. “Uh, why?”

“We’re going to pay him a visit.”

Kaelynn sighed. “We’ve already gone over this too. A sacrifice is needed to trigger the magicks. There’s no point in trying to find a way around it.”

“We don’t know that yet,” Sorin responded rather stubbornly.

“There aren’t any dragons left anyway!”

“The spirit of one rests in a cavern in Nephalia. Raven has spoken to it. We’ll leave in an hour; I need to talk to Vale first.” Sorin started to leave.

“What do you think he’s going to say?” Kaelynn continued, pursuing him. “We already know-”

“We think we know; there’s a difference. And why are you so determined to do this? You don’t even know what I want from you; why would you be willing to die for it?”

She paused, suddenly looking insecure, her eyes falling to the ground. “I think that’s what I’m supposed to do,” she finally responded.

He scoffed. “What, your destiny?”

“My purpose.” She met his gaze. “This is why I was born.”

“I don’t believe in fate,” he responded coldly.

“I do,” she countered simply. “I always have.”

“So it was fated for you to die? It was fated for that girl to die in your arms?” It was harsh, and he knew it.

She flinched but managed to meet his gaze again after a moment. “Apparently. Sorin-”

“I’m going to talk to Vale; we’re leaving in an hour.”

“I could kill myself before that.”

He sneered, “But that’s not your  _ fate _ .” Then he walked away.

Kaelynn sighed vaguely. “Has he always been such a drama queen?”

Raven laughed softly from behind her. “I can’t speak to always, but for as long as I’ve known him.”

“How  **do** you know him?” Kaelynn asked, turning to face the other vampiress.

“He turned me,” she responded as she sat down at his desk, propping her booted feet up on the wood. “I think he knew I was a Planeswalker and wanted to trigger my Spark. It worked for him."

Kaelynn frowned, “A what?”

Raven blinked in mild surprise, looking up at her. “He hasn’t explained that yet?” When the younger girl responded in the negative, Raven shook her head in annoyance. “Right. Well, do you believe in other worlds?”

**_0-0-0-0-0_ **

“So, that’s why he wants me,” Kaelynn mused following Raven’s explanation. She had asked several questions, but, really, the idea didn’t seem all that far-fetched to her. The only part that unnerved her was the idea that perhaps her goddess, Iylaria, was only the goddess of Innistrad, and not the other worlds.

“Yep,” Raven responded, popping the last sound as she pushed herself to her feet. “It’s almost time; you ready to go?”

“This is absurd,” Kaelynn stated, faintly annoyed, even as she followed Raven out of the study and down the halls. “We already know how it works! And if he’s trying to defeat some evil, all-powerful dragon who wants to rule the world, I’m good with dying for that cause.”

“We could be lying to you,” Raven commented.

“I’m pretty good at noticing.”

“Yet it took you this long to realise he was falling in love with you?”

“I kind of had other things on my mind,” she responded dryly.

Raven shrugged. “Meh. Regardless, humor us. He doesn’t want to lose you, even if he’s being obnoxious and not admitting it, and I don’t want to see him lose you.”

“How did he get a friend like you, anyway?”

“He turned me,” she stated again. “Saved my life.” She paused, “Well, my undeath, I suppose.”

“So it’s obligation?”

“At first, but I could have been mostly free of him the moment my Spark ignited. Also, he didn’t have to be nice to me.”

“You can’t deny that you’re useful.”

“Maybe sometimes. But he’s helped me before too.”

“You’re a good person,” Kaelynn seemed to decide.

Raven laughed. “A most kind compliment, especially from someone as righteous as you.” There was pause. “He is too, you know.”

“Yeah,” Kaelynn agreed without hesitation. “When he wants to be.”

There was a moment’s pause, and Raven regarded the younger woman. “And here I thought you were naive.”

Kaelynn laughed. “There’s a difference between being optimistic and being naive.”

“True, but the second often stems from the first.”

“Often, but not always. I can see things realistically and choose to hope it’ll turn out better anyway.”

“Set yourself up for disappointment.”

“Sometimes. Or sometimes you inspire other people to do the same, and if you inspire enough people, sometimes you can even change the minds of the gods.”

“Thought you believed in one god.”

“That was before I learned there were an infinite number of worlds out there.”

“Fair enough.”

They walked into the grand hall to find Sorin speaking, not with Vale, but with another woman. Or, rather, a young girl. She had white hair that fell down to the middle of her back and she wore black. Her skin was perfectly pale while her lips were black as night. She looked like she was a young teenager in form, but there was a long, slim scimitar on her back. She turned to face the other girls when they entered. “Is this all of us then?”

Sorin nodded, “Aye.”

Kaelynn frowned heavily at the girl. The voice sounded familiar, and her appearance was almost like. . . . “Avacyn?” she whispered, breathing the name like a prayer.

The girl offered a slight smile. “Not officially.”

“Hey, Avy,” Raven greeted with a bright grin that was immediately returned.

“Raven,” Avacyn responded softly, ever regal and poised. “It’s been quite some time.”

“Sure has. You’ll have to catch me up on stuff while we travel.”

Sorin rolled his eyes. “We’re not going by foot.”

Raven blinked at him for a moment and then shrugged. “Whatever.”

The Vampire Lord sighed slightly and then held out his hand, “Kaelynn.”

She moved to take it almost unthinkingly, letting out a soft yelp of surprise when he pulled her into his arms. “Wha-?”   


“Close your eyes,” he told her softly.

She obeyed after a moment, and then suddenly felt the world shift around her. Even with her eyes shut, she could sense everything changing, and all sense of direction and of her surroundings fell away. She felt mildly nauseous. Suddenly, with a jarring thud, awareness of the outside world came back in a rush, and she gulped in a breath of oxygen into her burning lungs. She hadn’t even realised she’d been holding her breath.

“You can open them now,” Sorin said quietly, and she felt the solid ground under her feet once more.

When she opened her eyes, she found herself in an entirely different place than she had been, with Raven and Avacyn looking around somewhat warily.

“Where are we?” Kaelynn asked in a whisper, not wanting to disturb the silence that had settled about them like a blanket.

“Nephalia.” Raven pointed towards a dark cave. “That’s where the dragon echo is.”

“Indeed,” a new voice agreed, the sound of it sending a shiver down Kaelynn’s spine. “I do wonder how you know that, however.”

Kaelynn turned to find herself staring into the insane blue eyes of Jared once again, and this time it wasn’t in her dreams.

**_0-0-0-0-0_ **

Jared regarded the assembled group with an outward detachment, but within his mind was nearly bursting with excitement. He had come here to destroy the last remnants of the dragon, since Tariel perceived it as a threat, but it seemed the fates were being kind to them this day. Sorin Markov, the vampire who had personally slaughtered his parents in front of him as a child, was here, and he was not alone. HIs princess was there for the taking, just as beautiful and innocent as ever.

Avacyn was there as well, though he might not have recognised her if it weren’t for the enraged scream Tariel had let loose in his mind at the sight of her. Both of their chances for vengeance were here, as was Jared’s prize. He couldn’t have planned it better himself.

_ Avacyn is mine, _ Tariel growled, and Jared had no objections.

“Markov is mine.”

The vampire in question regarded him somewhat amusedly, apparently not even surprised by his appearance. “You felt the need to proclaim that to the open air?”

Jared growled, drawing his enchanted blade. Red and white mana licked around the edges of it, fueled both by his and Tariel’s power. He leveled the sword at Markov. “You killed my parents.”

The Lord shrugged, summoning his own blade with a flicker of white mana. “I’ve killed a lot of people.”

“Jared, don’t do this,” Kaelynn’s voice momentarily distracted him, and he redirected his attention to her for a bare moment.

“When I’m finished with him, you’ll be coming with me,” he vowed solemnly.

He didn’t quite miss the way she took a half-step back at his words.

“You’ll lose,” she told him flatly.

His left hand clenched briefly into a fist, revealing his desire to hit her for that. “Is that what you hope?”

She didn’t answer.

He would have to hurt her for that later.

Then the vampire was moving.

Markov crossed the distance between them at superhuman speeds, but thanks to Tariel’s power flowing through him, he was able to match them, bringing his blade up to block in a shower of sparks.

Markov pushed against him, and though he fought back with all his strength, he found himself pushed backwards. Pulling up more red mana from his reserves, he conjured up a small fireball in his left hand and twisted his grip on the blade so that he could aim his palm at the vampire’s face. He loosed the fire and then broke away from the locked blades, bringing his down to wear Markov’s head ought to have been.

Markov dodged the fireball with a quick jerk of his head, rolling out of the way of Jared’s strike and coming up to his feet a few cubits away. HIs golden eyes flashed dangerously, and black mana tendrils started creeping their way from where Markov’s gloved hand met the ground towards Jared. He hacked at them, but one made it through, only barely stopped by the ward of white mana around him.

The vampire pressed his advantage, moving towards him in the blink of an eye. Jared was forced to pull away from the vines of darkness, trusting his wards to deflect them as he parried Markov’s furious blows.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Markov’s companions just watching. The black-haired woman was just reclining against the cave wall, looking bored. Both Kaelynn and Avacyn looked nervous, like they might attempt to jump into the fight at any moment, but they did not.

He was forced to turn all his attention back to Markov as he missed a parry and felt his enemy’s blade glance against one of his shields.

Markov growled like the monster he was, and then a wave of black mana buffeted him with an insane amount of strength.

Jared groaned, feeling his wards weaken and begin to fracture. The vampire was removing his defenses. Like a window of glass, the ward fell, and Jared gritted his teeth before launching himself at his foe.

Markov blocked irritatingly effortlessly, throwing him back with only one hand on his sword handle. Another tendril of black mana slipped up towards him, and Jared blocked it surprisingly easy only to realise the ploy too late. From behind him, another conjured vine pierced through his right arm, causing him to cry out in pain and drop his blade, even while he fell to one knee.

The Vampire Lord looked annoyed. “I would kill you, but I have a question first.”

Jared blinked, clenching his jaw against the pain radiating through his body. “What?” he spat.

“When did you meet her?” he jerked his head to indicate the unmoving cleric, as still as a statue as she watched the battle.

“The Church libraries,” he responded truthfully. “She was studying.”

“And you became obsessed,” Markov mused. “Not that I don’t see the appeal, but generally one doesn’t torture the object of their affections.”

Jared laughed, a bitter, scornful sound. “You are educating me on proper behavior?”

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Markov agreed before approaching almost lazily, sword in hand. “But I doubt they give lessons in hell.”

**_0-0-0-0-0_ **

Sorin approached carelessly to end the wounded Templar on the ground when suddenly there was an explosion of light from his body. Sorin was physically thrown backwards as the form of an angel materialised in front of him. The Templar’s wound was healed and at every beat of her white wings, white mana flashed out from her form. She wielded two blades, one red and black, the other red and white, both gleaming in the sunlight.

Avacyn gazed in shock and then immediately moved forward. “Tariel, what are you doing? Stand down.”

The angel turned on Avacyn, who looked like such a child at that moment. “You are not my queen,” she growled. “You are an abomination!”

“Markov first,” Jared said wearily as he stood, picking up his own blade. “Make her watch him die.”

Avacyn’s eyes widened briefly and then white and red mana washed out, overflowing from Tariel’s mad eyes.

Sorin and Raven both fell to the ground in pain, while Kaelynn and Avacyn stood, unaffected yet immobilised.

“Don’t do this,” Avacyn whispered, eyes locked on Sorin’s writhing form. “Please.”

“Do something!” Raven managed to scream.

“I cannot kill my sister!” Avacyn yelled back, tears pouring from her lost eyes.

Jared walked over to Sorin and kicked over his body, raising the blade above his chest. “And now I take vengeance for my family.”

“No.”

A flash of white mana shot out and slammed Jared back, ripping his sword from his hands. The white mana took the form of a spirit that proceeded to shield Sorin from the onslaught of power. Another appeared and did the same for Raven a moment later.

Jared turned and stared at Kaelynn in shock, who’s bright green eyes were alight with white fire.

“You don’t get to hurt anyone else,” she said firmly, and the spirits she had summoned remained near to protect the two vampires as they slowly stood.

Sorin and Raven gazed at them in awe, the former murmuring. “Is this the power of the Purest Soul?”

Jared sneered, but Tariel spoke before he could, letting loose a feral scream and diving at Kaelynn.

The cleric’s eyes widened, and another spirit moved to protect her, but the force of the angel’s strike caused the conjuration to shudder. It wouldn’t last long.

“Kill her!” Raven screamed suddenly, unable to get around the spirit that was protecting her. “Kaelynn, you have to kill her!”

The young cleric looked back at her friend with wide eyes before shaking her head. “I cannot. This is meant to protect, not harm.”

Sorin growled, but he too was trapped behind the spirit meant to shield him.

The summon protecting Kaelynn shuddered and then winked out of existence. The young cleric looked up with surprisingly clear eyes, almost accepting.

Tariel raised one of her dual colored blade, a feral look of triumph on her features, and then suddenly froze with a jerk.

Blood spilled forth from her mouth as the tip of a scimitar came through her front from behind.

The angel dropped and then vanished into nothing before their eyes, revealing the trembling form of Avacyn behind her, staring down at the ground where Tariel had fallen.

“I couldn’t-” The angel froze, meeting Kaelynn’s gaze with horrified eyes. “What have I done?”

Jared screamed in rage and then charged the two frozen women.

Sorin extinguished the spirit that had been protecting him with a flash of black mana and moved to intercept, blocking Jared’s blow with his own waning strength.

“You’re weak,” Jared growled. “You can’t protect her!”

Something dark flashed in Sorin’s eyes, and a new wave of black mana pressed out from his blade, but Jared nullified it with his own magic.

“My reserves are still strong! I had been using her power, not my own!” Jared and the vampire exchanged furious blows, Sorin being steadily driven backwards.

The Templar pushed him up against the wall, smiling ferally. “Your blood will be mine!”

Sorin sent out another wave of black mana, the act growing weaker every time.

“That is useless!” Jared growled. “Can’t you see? The powers of darkness cannot touch me.”

Sorin suddenly smirked. “I know.” A massive explosion of white mana echoed out from him, flinging Jared from him.

He hit the ground flat on his back, the sword clattering from his grip. Before he could get to it, a small foot came down, preventing him from lifting it. He looked up to see Kaelynn’s sorrowful face.

“I wanted to help you, you know,” she told him quietly.

Jared snarled. “I never wanted or needed your help.”

“You’re right. I can’t ever fix what’s wrong with you.”

“Listen to me, you selfish bitch!” She recoiled. “You’re a traitor to your own kind, and nothing more than a fucking whore! You’ve sold out to the monsters that killed your own brother! You’re going to hell either way, but this is your last chance to-” He was suddenly cut off as a blade went through his chest.

Kaelynn’s eyes jerked up sharply to find Sorin standing over him, eyes impassive, until Jared stopped jerking. He dismissed the blade and then walked over to Avacyn.

She flinched away from him harshly. “Don’t touch me! I. . . . I killed. . . .”

“Avacyn,” he murmured quietly.

“No! Just. . . don’t.” And then she vanished.

Raven looked at Sorin for a long moment and walked over, saying something quietly that Kaelynn couldn’t hear. Then she went inside the cave after a swift nod to the young cleric.

Kaelynn walked over to him and took a deep breath. “Thank you,” she finally whispered.

He looked at her in mild surprise, his eyes as cold as ice. “For what?”

“This. Him,” she jerked her head towards’ Jared’s corpse. “Not just letting me die.”

He took a step closer, glaring harshly down at her. “Do you think I’ve done this out of some goodness of my heart? You know, he might not have been right about you, but you are truly a fool if you believe me to be anything more than the monster he saw me as.”

She looked at him in surprise, “You’re not-”

“That Blood Rune, that had trapped Edgar, that was from the blood of innocents. Innocent girls that I stole from their homes, broke, and manipulated. Just like he tried to do with you.”

“No, it’s not the same,” she denied, shaking her head firmly, no longer meeting his eyes.

“It’s exactly the same,” he growled. “I want you to die for me so that I can get the full extent of my abilities back. To save the Mutiverse? Hardly. The only reason I would save it is to continue controlling it.”

“Sorin-”

“Still don’t believe me? I killed my sister.”

Dead silence.

“In cold blood. I ripped out her heart and used her blood to paint the rune on that door. The only thing strong enough to keep him locked away. Then I used her body to create an angel to preserve my source of nourishment. An angel who is daily tortured by contradicting mandates that I gave her. She is a construct created from the body of someone I once loved more  than life itself. What is more human than the attachments we form to our family? And what is more monstrous than ending those with your own hand?” He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Look around you, Kaelynn. What is this if not the work of a demon?”

He walked away.

Kaelynn stood, frozen for several long moments of silence before finding her voice again. “I don’t believe you.”

Sorin froze a few feet away. “You’re a fool.”

“I believe that everything you said was true,” she clarified. “I just don’t believe your motives. I don’t believe that you didn’t have a reason- a reason that went beyond simple survival. Maybe I’ll never know if I’m right or not, but I choose to believe this.”

He was back in front of her in the blink of an eye. “And what about the actions? Do presumed good intentions make what I did any less wrong?”

“No. But I don’t care.” She suddenly gave a slight shrug followed by a timid smile. “I’m not perfect, you know. Not even remotely innocent either, even though that’s what everyone likes to see. I don’t care what you’ve done Sorin. Maybe I don’t even care what your motives were, even though I’ll believe they were just until the day I die. It doesn’t matter to me anymore.”

He was very close to her now so that she had to crane her neck to look up at him. His warm breath washed down over her face as he spoke. “What does matter?”

“You.” She tilted her head up towards him, and leaned up, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He leaned down and pulled her into a kiss.

**_0-0-0-0-0_ **

Somewhere in the mountains of Stensia, Edgar stood in front of a the door to a massive crypt with a triumphant look in his eyes as he turned to his partner, the demon hidden in the body of an Inquisitor.

“I told you he didn’t kill her."

The crypt doors were made of heavy stone, covered in layers of numerous wards. A massive five-point star covered the double doors that were built into the side of the mountain.

“It seems you were correct,” Shilgengar responded softly. He laid one hand of the stiff corpse on the stone and broke through every ward with practiced ease.

Edgar smiled as the doors swung open.


	15. What Is a Good Man?

**“WHY HAVE YOU RETURNED?”**

Raven squeaked. “I. . . uh. . . brought a friend?”

**“I WARNED YOU NEVER TO RETURN!”**

“Sorin!” She looked around the dark cave, muttering, “Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me. . . .”

Markov entered the cave and glanced around a bit warily.

**“Why have you come, Vampire Lord?”** The dragon demanded, his voice echoing through all of their minds and causing Kaelynn to flinch and put a hand to her head.

“For information,” Sorin responded. “I was informed that you were knowledgeable and wise in the things of the past.”

The dragon rumbled lowly,  **“Flattery has no purpose here, Son of Markov. What would you know from me?”**

“What do you know of the Purest Soul?”

Dark laughter echoed throughout the cave.  **“That you shall never wield it.”**

“I already do,” Sorin responded flatly. “I want to know the methods of activation.”

**“If you truly do not know this, than you are more foolish than I first believed.”** A cold wind rushed by them, and the torch that Raven held aloft flickered, making their shadows dance on the walls.

“I know sacrifice is a way. I’m looking for another.”

**“Why? If you own it as you say, surely sacrifice should be no great trial for an olden vampire such as yourself.”**

“I thought you said flattery has no purpose here?” Sorin countered with a slight smirk before answering. “There is another way; what is it?”

The dragon laughed again, the sound like rolling thunder.  **“There is no way at all. Leave here.”**

Sorin growled low in his throat. “Not until you answer my questions.”

**“You are here at my mercy, Vampire. Now LEAVE!”**

Kaelynn gave out a soft involuntary whimper at the force of the voice in her head, so loud that it made the cavern rumble around them.

Sorin’s eyes flew to her and then flashed in rage. Black mana started rolling off of him in waves, touching every corner of the cavern save where the girls were crowded near the entrance.

Suddenly, there was a loud howl, followed by the materialisation of a massive, transparent dragon in the midst of the cavern, eyes bright with anger. White mana started warring with the black, and a swift, silent battle ensued.

Sorin won.

The dragon spirit howled again, but retreated back against the back wall, using its magic only to defend itself from the onslaught of magical power.

“You are not indestructible,” Sorin growled. “You are old, worn, and weak. Now, how do I activate the Purest Soul without killing the host?”

**“You can’t!”** he howled, less angry and more pained now.  **“The Purest Soul was destroyed!”**

There was dead silence in the room, and Sorin left off his battering of the echo. “What?” he asked, voice deceptively calm.

**“Barely two generations after its creation, the last remnants of the Dark Dragon Shamans destroyed it. It was too powerful.”**

“That’s impossible,” Kaelynn said quietly. “I just used its power outside.”

**“If you used magic, that wasn’t the Purest Soul.”**

“That was just you?” Raven whispered, sounding almost awed.

“No,” the cleric objected, though she sounded uncertain. “I’m not a mage. That. . . that wasn’t me!”

“Then who was it?” Sorin spoke the question just to the room at large.

“Someone spoke to me!” Kaelynn declared, her voice almost panicked. “When I died, when I was brought back, someone spoke to me. Iylaria will know.”

Sorin’s head jerked around to look at her, regarding her evenly for a few moments. “You died last time in order to talk to her.”

She shifted a bit uncomfortably. “Well, yeah, I’d like to avoid that if at all possible.”

Sorin smirked. “I think we can probably manage that. Raven, those plants just outside, gather them up.” He looked back at Kaelynn. “How do you feel about herbal potions?”

Barely fifteen minutes later, Kaelynn was lying on her back on Sorin’s long black coat, Raven’s leather jacket used as her pillow, as she looked up at the faces of two vampires that she strangely trusted with her life. “So, I just drink this?” she gestured to the small clay cup that held some kind of herbal mixture.

“You just drink that,” Sorin confirmed.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” Raven asked quietly over Kaelynn’s form as the cleric drank all if it, making a face as she did so.

“I was very ill as a child. I learned a great deal about natural medicines,” the elder vampire responded absently, taking the now empty cup from the girl.

There was silence for a few moments, and then Kaelynn’s eyes slipped shut and her breathing evened out.

“So, when does-?” Raven started, but she cut off as suddenly the cleric’s eyes opened once more, only to reveal that they were purely white, glowing with a pure intensity of some kind of internal light. “Goddess on high,” she breathed.

“Quite,” a voice came from Kaelynn that was far older and more mature than the human’s had been. Those unnervingly pure white, bright eyes turned on Sorin. “You are the one who wishes to speak to me, I presume?”

“I am. And you are Iylaria, the White Goddess.”

“I am,” she echoed, sitting up, her back perfectly straight as she turned to look almost robotically at Sorin. “What do you wish from me?”

“Information,” Sorin repeated his earlier answer. “What is the Purest Soul?”

Iylaria sighed softly. “It was once the term used to refer to my High Priestesses, but then it became the name of the artifact that High Priestess Arya created. When that was destroyed, it instead became the name of those in the line of the family that would have received the artifact, a blood line I chose instead to hold my powers, to be my Avatars.”

“What if they didn’t have actual pure souls?” Sorin just sounded curious.

“My power in their blood would not trigger and it would not flow through them. Kaelynn is pure. She is my Avatar.”

“You activated her potential when she died,” he guessed.

“Yes,” she continued to gaze at him with her flat stare, “and I won’t let you use her or me to accomplish your own goals.”

“So you could heal the damage done to the Planeswalkers’ Sparks?”

“I could heal the damage done to one,” she corrected. “But I will not. Not for you.”

“She would.”

“I will not let her,” Iylaria almost growled. “She is pure, innocent, and naive, yet also only human. She cannot see you for the monster you are; you have seen to that with your manipulations. I can, and I will not allow you to use the power that flows through her veins to heal your own power.”

He arched an eyebrow, “Not even for the greater good?”

“Is it truly for the greater good if the one you raise up to extinguish evil is just as evil in and of himself?”

“So that’s a no then.”

“You will not have her. Or me,” Iylaria hissed.

“Very well. Do you think you could at least give her back though?”

She narrowed her eyes on him. “What do you plan now? She cannot use my powers without my aid, and her sacrifice will get you nothing. That is not how my power works.”

“I understand,” Sorin answered firmly. “Now, Kaelynn?”

The goddess sighed. “She returns.” The body laid back down, and less than a full minute later, Kaelynn blinked slowly, opening her emerald eyes.

“What did I miss?”

**_0-0-0-0-0_ **

The crypt wasn’t overly large, maybe the size of a small chapel. In fact, that was exactly what it appeared to be- a small chapel built into the side of a mountain. There were a few rows of stone pews covered in cobwebs and insects, and the aisle in the middle led up to a slightly elevated platform, on which sat a shrine. Looking down on that stone altar was a massive stone angel with the wings folded up carefully behind it. The sculpture predated the creation of Avacyn yet bore a striking resemblance.

Edgar entered the dusty old place slowly, Shilgengar a few steps behind.

“Well?” the demon asked suddenly, having no qualms about breaking the silence of the place. “Where is she?”

Edgar frowned heavily. “I don’t know.” He approached the shrine slowly and blinked in mild surprise at the sight of an old, worn envelope sitting under the watchful eyes of the rather disturbing statue. “Perhaps she is in the stone,” he mused almost to himself as he opened the parchment. He glanced at it briefly at first, meaning only to give it a cursory examination, but it soon had absorbed all of his attention.

_ My dearest sister, _

_ You once told me that there was never too great a sacrifice to make in the struggle to do what is right. I think perhaps that I have found one. _

_ Do you remember when we were children? Before the war, before the famine, before Grandfather? Do you remember how Mother used to want to always keep me in the house and yet you would help me sneak out of my window at night? You were a healer, a nurse, a cleric in training. You knew the doctors all said I was going to die; you knew that it was taxing on my strength. But you also knew how much I wanted to breathe the fresh air. You knew it did me good, no matter what the cold air did to my lungs. And you helped me. _

_ That was who you were. To me, to everyone. You were our healer, our brightest morning star. Always with a kind word for everyone, the sun of my world. The sun of our entire village. They said we were blessed, you know. Our town. They said we were blessed because the undead, the darkness, the monsters, they all stayed away. It was because of you. You shone like the sun, and they didn’t dare come near us. I always believed that. _

_ Grandfather would have called me sentimental. I hear his voice in my head more and more now that you’re gone. _

_ I hate him. Not for what he did to me. I know that you hated him for that; one of the many reasons I loved you. I always wanted to tell you that it wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have stopped him. If you had tried. . . I dread to think of what he might have done. But he did it anyway, didn’t he? I was his guinea pig. I had always hoped it would end with me. After all, there was nothing wrong with you. _

_ I’m sorry that I left. When he injected me with the serum that day, I thought it was the same as always. He seemed a bit more manic than normal, but that in itself was normal. Then the pain started. It took me a while to realise that I had died. I can’t begin to explain what happened then, where I went, the things I saw. Turns out you were always right, Ara. There are gods. There are other worlds. And I saw them. I wish you could have seen them too. _

_ I’ll always remember the day I came back. You looked the same as always- eyes the color of the brightest sky, hair as shining as the stars. But your lips were covered in blood. Your hands were holding the hearts of the innocent. The town your very presence had always protected was burning around you. I don’t blame you, Ara. I don’t blame you for the darkness. But I am sorry. _

_ Thank you. I feel that, even though the woman who helped me lock Grandfather away wasn’t really you, you deserve my thanks for your aid. Thank you for helping me with the wards, for making sure he never escaped again. I never could have lured him there without your help. He never trusted me. For good reason I suppose. _

_ I’m sorry. _

_ There is nothing more I can say for what I did next. You would have killed me, but that was no excuse. I should have let you. I’m sorry for ripping your heart out of your chest. I’m sorry for using it to lock Grandfather away. I’m sorry for burying you here, away from the rest of the world. I’m sorry for stealing away Innistrad’s one and only true sun. I’m sorry I killed you. _

_ But not as sorry as I am about what I am about to do now. _

_ I have returned here, to what was meant to be your final resting place, because I need your help again, Ara. Humans are dying. The vampire plague has spread, and we will all die if I don’t find a way to stop the endless slaughter. I’ll die. And it seems there is nothing I’m not willing to do to preserve my own life. Just as the serum took from you your endless light and goodness, it took from me my peace. I spent my whole life preparing to die, and now that life is an option. . . . I cannot face it again. I am sorry for my weakness in this. _

_ I need your body, Ara. I need the power that once ran through your veins. Sister, forgive me, but I need your corpse. I intend to turn you into the angel that you always were. You are the only one who can return the sun and salvation to Innistrad. _

_ I know it’s no excuse. I know that there can be no forgiveness for what I have done, what I am about to do. I don’t ask for it. Not now, not ever. I only try to explain, in case my real sister is somewhere out there still. And thank you. _

_ You once told me that there was never too great a sacrifice to make in the struggle to do what is right. _

_ Once I tried to live by those words, but I no longer know what is right and what is wrong. Is it right to profane your body to bring salvation to humanity? Is it right to bring salvation to humanity in order to preserve the killers of humanity? Where is the line drawn? _

_ I never knew. You were my guiding star, and without you I am lost. _

_ There is a sacrifice too great to make in the struggle to do with is right, and it is right itself. I gave up you when I should have let you kill me. I sacrificed the personification of justice, of goodness, of righteousness. I sacrificed right personified in an attempt to do the right thing. _

_ I am sorry. _

_ I’m done now. There is no right, no more light. Only the darkness. Maybe that’s all there ever was. _

_ Goodbye, Ara. I loved you, once, when I was yet living. You were my family, once, when I was human. Please, forgive him. The human one. The boy who died. I don’t seek your forgiveness. I know it can never be given. _

_ Goodbye, my dearest sister, my guiding star. _

_ I can, at least, promise that I will never forget you. _

__ _ Sorin _

Edgar stared blankly at the page for several long moments only to be startled out of his reverie by Shilgengar snatching the parchment from his hands.

Suddenly, the demon snorted. “Looks like he wasn’t as weak as you assumed. Used her heart to seal you in- brilliant.”

“Look at his remorse,” Edgar spat. “He is just as weak as I always assumed!”

The demon arched an eyebrow. “Remorse doesn’t mean weakness. Not if it isn’t followed by repentance. He forsook the light.”

“Some of us never were light,” the vampire growled.

“True,” Shilgengar suddenly smiled darkly, “and that was my mistake with you.”

Edgar turned to stare.

“The ones who started in the light are stronger. They had to be, to break free of it. You are the weak one, Markov, and I’m quite finished with you,” the demon said conversationally. “I had been going to replace you with Aralyn, but it looks like the younger child is just as powerful if not more so.”

“You serve me, demon!” Edgar howled.

“No. You serve me. And I’m done with you.” The body of the High Inquisitor suddenly collapsed, and there was a rush of cold wind that suddenly slammed shut the doors of the crypt, the wards locking back in place.

Edgar ran to the doors and pounded on them with a mind-shattering scream.

Shilgengar flew away on the wind towards Markov Manor.

Perhaps Edgar wasn’t the only Markov Lord who would be interested in his aid.

**_0-0-0-0-0_ **

“So that’s it?” Kaelynn asked flatly, directing her question to the cave floor before lifting her gaze to meet the vampires’. “That’s it? She said no, so we’re just done?”

“You can’t use the power without her permission, Kaelynn. It’s over,” Raven said soothingly, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Kaelynn stood abruptly, agitated. “No. No, I don’t buy that. There has to be a way. There’s always a way.” She started pacing as she spoke, eyes on the ground.

“Let it go, Kaelynn,” Sorin told her softly.

“No! We can’t just let some evil dragon take over the Multiverse!”

“We?” Sorin echoed bemusedly before laying a hand on her shoulder to stop the pacing, turning him to face him. “Enough,” he said gently, but firmly. “Are you so incredibly determined to die for this cause?”

“I’m determined to do something! And there’s no sacrifice too great to make for the sake of doing the right thing.”

Sorin let go of her like he’d been burnt. “What did you say?”

She frowned at him. “Nothing. It’s just. . . a motto of mine. It’s nothing.”

“Ara used to say that,” he murmured softly.

“Ara?”

“My sister,” he clarified after a second. While both girls looked at him sharply, his eyes remained on the floor. When he lifted them to look at Kaelynn, they held a sharp intensity. “How certain are you that we are right?”

“What?”

“Are we on the right side? How sure are you that we’re the good guys?”

“Completely,” Kaelynn responded immediately.

“Not a shred of doubt?”

“Not a hint.”

He nodded once, firmly. “I know how to restore my power.”

Raven’s eyes lit up as much as Kaelynn’s. “How?”

“Her blood,” he jerked his head towards Kaelynn, who frowned.

“Edgar already drank my blood.”

“But Iylaria’s power was still dormant in you then. She said that she activated it now, and she said it flowed through your veins several times. The power is in your blood, passed down through the blood.”

Kaelynn grinned. “Perfect! So, you drink my blood, and then you can beat him?”

“I’ll have a much better chance.”

“You’ll kill her,” Raven interrupted softly; both of the others looked at her sharply, but she only had eyes for Sorin. “To get the power, you’ll have to drink all of her blood, and if it works and you still Iylaria’s power from her, she won’t be able to be brought back. You’ll kill her.”

Sorin met her eyes evenly. “She said there was no sacrifice too great.”

Kaelynn nodded slowly. “There isn’t. I’ll do it.”

Raven still didn’t look away from him. “Don’t do this.”

“Raven-”

“No! Just don’t do it! I don’t care if Bolas wins; I don’t care if you die for it. You can’t do this!” She took a deep breath. “I can’t watch you destroy your life and shatter your own heart. Again.”

“There’s no other way,” he told her quietly.

“Forget about the rest of the Multiverse! Do what’s right for you! For her!”

“No.”

The word almost seemed to echo in the dark cavern, and it hit Raven like a physical blow. Tears filled her perfect blow eyes, and then she swallowed hard. “Fine.” She immediately wrapped Kaelynn up in a hug. “You are a wonderful person, Kaelynn Grey, and I will never forget you.”

“I love you too, Raven,” the cleric responded softly.

The vampire giggled slightly into the brunette’s hair. “Yeah.” She released her and then looked flatly at Sorin. “I’m leaving. Don’t call me again for help.”

“Raven-” He tried as she started to walk away.

She turned around and snapped, “No! I won’t watch you destroy your life! I won’t watch you do this!” And then she simply vanished.

There was silence for a few moments.

“She’ll come back eventually,” Kaelynn offered.

“Perhaps.”

Kaelynn gently cupped his cheek, tilting his head up slightly to look at her instead of the ground. “You’re doing the right thing,” she whispered softly.

“I don’t know what that is most of the time anymore,” he responded honestly, “so I’m trusting you to be able to tell.”

“I can.”

More silence.

“I suppose we’d better get this over with then?” he commented.

Kaelynn nodded slowly, glancing around the dark cave. “Not exactly where I thought I’d spent my last moments.”

Sorin’s brow furrowed, and then he suddenly pull her into his arms. “Close your eyes.”

This time, when she was allowed to open them, she was met by the sight of the inside of an ancient church that she recognised almost immediately. “This is the church where the Purge occurred,” she breathed in awe.

He pointed behind her to a shine to the great High Priestess Arya. “How do you know it?”

“My grandmother used to tell me stories when I was young.” She ran her hands over the altar in excitement and then turned back to the vampire with a faint smile. “Thank you.”

“A better place to die?” he asked caustically.

“Yes,” she agreed without hesitation, walking back over to him and gazing deep into his eyes. “A perfect place to die.”

He brushed her hair back from her face and neck, feeling her pulse with his fingers.

“This is the right thing,” she told him again. “Don’t regret it when I’m gone. And don’t lose your heart. It’ll tell you what’s right and wrong.”

“I don’t have a heart.”

“Liar,” she said with a smile. “Goodbye, Sorin.”

“Goodbye, Kaelynn,” he whispered against her ear, and then took a breath, showing his fangs.

**_THE END_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The very last chapter. Thank you to everyone for your support! If there are any questions about loose ends, I will be more than happy to answer them because I don't plan for there to be a sequel. I'm also probably not going to be writing any more MTG fics any time soon. Thank you all!


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